


One Life for Yourself and One for Your Dreams

by endingthemes



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - James Bond Fusion, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, BAMF Raven, Charles is a geek, Erik Being Cocky, Falling In Love, M/M, Secrets and Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endingthemes/pseuds/endingthemes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When 00 Agent Raven Darkholme manages to capture the elusive Magneto and bring him in for questioning about a dangerous arms deal involving international criminal Sebastian Shaw, it’s up to Quartermaster Charles Xavier to get him to talk. With time running out, Charles needs to convince Magneto to trust him, but they’re both far too good at keeping secrets, and the growing attraction between them is only making things more difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Life for Yourself and One for Your Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rohnoc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rohnoc/gifts).



> Thank you for the lovely prompt, Rohnoc! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to my two lovely betas, [cachinnation](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cachinnation/pseuds/cachinnation) and [Mellomailbox](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellomailbox/pseuds/Mellomailbox), for saving my life. You guys are the very best.
> 
> Title from Nancy Sinatra's "You Only Live Twice."

The first time Agent 009 saw Magneto, he crushed the entire building she was planning to infiltrate before she could even begin her stealthy approach. The building didn’t explode as if bombed or crumble as if the foundation had been compromised. It was like nothing she had ever seen before, and she might not have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. Magneto was standing brashly out in the open, not cleverly hidden like her, obviously completely unconcerned with being spotted. He simply gritted his teeth, clenched his fist, and _squeezed_ , and the building collapsed like it was little more than newspaper he had decided to crumple and discard.

“We’ve got a problem,” she said into her comm.

The second time 009 encountered Magneto, he was no longer a completely unknown entity. Q Branch had been digging, doing their best to identify him, but little information had come to light. They’d dug up some fuzzy surveillance footage, and Q had managed to sharpen it enough to run a facial scan. Unfortunately, that had turned up little more than a few aliases -- Magneto, Max, Magnus -- but no solid leads on his identity or who he was working for. Freelance, Q had suspected, almost always right even when his telepathy wasn’t in play.

This time, they actually made eye contact, his eyes sharp and grey like steel, before Magneto mercilessly crushed the helicopter holding two key witnesses that 009 had been hoping to apprehend alive. Dismissing them immediately as definitely dead, she whipped out her gun and turned it on Magneto, who gazed back at her looking bored, decked out in a debonair three-piece suit more fit for a soiree than a killing spree. 009’s gun became a useless lump in her hand, and he smirked at her and shrugged, infuriatingly smug and annoyingly handsome as he made his escape.

She brought the gun back to Q, and he looked at it curiously, eyes lighting up with interest as they always did whenever something new and different was presented to him. After careful analysis, the team concluded his powers weren’t simple telekinesis but something more specific -- metal or magnetic field manipulation. Suddenly the seemingly random alias “Magneto” made much more sense, and MI6 decided to stick with it.

She didn’t see Magneto for the next few months, but his reputation in MI6 continued to grow. He’d had run-ins with 004 and 007 and completely ruined their missions as well, leaving behind only ruins and bodies, but never attacking the agents. M was becoming increasingly impatient with her agents, stressing that Magneto was only one man and surely the mostly highly trained operatives in the world could handle him.

The third time 009 encountered Magneto, he was naked in bed with her latest target. It would have been much more scandalous if the target hadn’t been very much dead, sickeningly still with limbs splayed awkwardly. She cursed. She’d been warned of this, Q finally starting to put more pieces together. Magneto didn’t show up randomly to cause chaos just for the fun of it. All of his targets had been very specific and related to one man and one man only: Sebastian Shaw, notorious international terrorist and arms and secrets dealer, wanted by nearly every government in the world, but a particularly special enemy of the CIA and MI6. Where Magneto fit in, they weren’t quite sure, but here he was, fucking information out of Shaw’s associate, obviously successfully, judging by the state of his satisfied smirk.

“Lovely to see you, 009,” he said, the first time she had heard his voice, a lovely baritone. He stood from the bed gracefully, completely unselfconscious in his nudity, and she could understand why as she eyed him. Every last part was built to perfection.

“Did you get the location?” she asked coolly, lifting an eyebrow. If he was hoping to intimidate or entice with his nudity, he’d picked the wrong agent.

He scoffed. “As if I would tell you either way.”

She surveyed the room, looking for a way to salvage the situation. This now dead arms dealer had been their best lead on Shaw in months, and Magneto had already squashed that hope. She couldn’t return empty handed, not with how much was riding on this. Her gaze fell on the electronics on an oak desk -- a laptop and a cellphone -- and it was sloppy to look too long, and she knew it as she watched Magneto crush them both to dust.

“No info here,” he said with a smile, all teeth and no humor.

009 smiled right back. “Guess I’ll just have to take back the only valuable item then.”

He raised an eyebrow as she pulled her gun and aimed it levelly at him. “I would ask you to come peacefully but there’s no way you will.” She paused, letting out her next words with relish. “And I’m going to enjoy this far too much.”

Looking supremely apathetic, he stuck out his hand, but a line formed on his brow when the gun didn’t respond. The shot echoed loudly in the room, grazing his neck painfully, and he dropped to his knees, cupping the wound with a grimace.

She blew away imaginary smoke from the end of the gun. “A plastic gift from Q Branch,” she said with a quirk of her lips as he stared up at her, mouth hanging open. Though it wasn’t strictly necessary, she felt justified in adding a bit of flair to her kick, executing a perfect twist in the air before her heel connected with the top of his head, knocking him out cold. If she gave him one extra unnecessary kick to the ribs, well, no one had to know.

*

Erik crawled slowly towards consciousness, careful to keep his body limp and breathing even in order not to alert anyone who might be watching to the fact that he was awake. His neck stung and the ache in his head was sharp but bearable -- 009 didn’t pull her punches (or kicks) -- but the blank space of silence where metal usually sang to him was unnerving enough to cause a hitch in his breathing that would no doubt reveal that he was indeed conscious. Suppressed then, and in MI6 custody. Things weren’t looking up, but he knew they wouldn’t be able to hold him for long.

The click of the door let him know his unconsciousness gig was completely up, so he opened his eyes and sat up slowly, preferring not to face anyone while lying down.

The guard was young and blonde and simply commanded, “Follow me.” Erik didn’t bother to put up a fight, knowing obedience was his best choice until the suppressants wore off, idly eyeing the surroundings as they walked. The holding rooms were almost entirely glass and the majority of the walls and ceilings were stone. Underground then, most probably, and minimal metal around, but he needed very little to do a lot of damage.

The guard sat him down in a nondescript room containing only a simple table and four chairs with an obvious one-way mirror on one wall. He sat in one of the chairs facing the door, and the guard handcuffed his hands to the chair behind his back, which was novel. He hadn’t bothered with handcuffs outside of the bedroom in years.

The guard took his position in the back corner, out of Erik’s direct sight, but obviously on high alert, the lines of his body tense. When the door opened, Erik was unsurprised to see 009 walk in, glorious in her natural blue, but he didn’t recognize the brunette who followed her. She was obviously the one in charge, the set of her shoulders and tilt of her chin commanding respect. The woman sat, her sleek pantsuit and chin-length hair equally pristine, while 009 stood behind her, posture flawless and hands tucked behind her back.

“Magneto,” the woman greeted evenly. He bared his teeth, and to her credit, she didn’t even twitch. “I’ll keep this short and simple to save us both the time. Before you killed William Stryker, did you get the location of Shaw’s arms deal?”

Erik appreciated her candor but saw no reason to be cooperative. “Is this where you start torturing me if I refuse to answer?”

She rolled her eyes. “While I’m sure 009 would love to do just that,” she said wryly, “we’d prefer it if you simply volunteered the information. We’ve been following this intel for months, and we know a nuclear arms deal is going to happen in five days. We’ve been trying to find out the location of this deal, and no doubt would have had it by now if it weren’t for your constant interference. You don’t owe Shaw your loyalty. If he knew we had you, regardless of whether or not you were here voluntarily, his immediate response would be to put a hit on you, and you know it. We can offer protection in exchange for cooperation.”

Erik clenched his fists, out of sight thanks to being handcuffed to the chair, but the thought of working for Shaw was so repulsive he nearly spit out the truth in his rage, the sudden heat coursing through his body almost taking control.

He managed to swallow his anger instead, burning a path down his throat. “I’ll tell you nothing.”

The woman didn’t even acknowledge the answer, turning to 009. “Tell them to bring in Q.”

009’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth, “But Ma’am” barely out before she was interrupted.

“Bring in Q, _now_.”

009 shut her mouth tightly and nodded, leaving the room immediately. This exchange was enough to confirm Erik’s suspicions that the woman he was facing was in fact the infamous M. No one else would have the clout or be afforded such respect from a 00 Agent. But M herself coming to an interrogation? My, my, they really were running out of options. Erik had known Shaw’s deal to buy nuclear weapons would no doubt draw the attention of MI6, but he had assumed they had other leads. Apparently, there was only him. That was good. That gave him leverage.

The door opened again, 009 returning but this time followed by a mousey man, hair a wavy mess and glasses slightly askew, wearing a snug blue cardigan and a striped tie that didn’t match. He was quite possibly the least threatening thing Erik had ever seen.

009 took up her standing post once again, but this “Q” took the seat next to M, the chair scraping loudly across the floor as he scooted closer to the table.

“Magneto, this is Q, in charge of our R&D division and also one of our best computer aces.”

“You brought in a nerd to bore the information out of me?” Erik asked archly.

“Hello, Erik,” Q said, voice calm, and Erik couldn’t smother a sharp inhale at the sound of his name, adrenaline kicking in to thrum through his veins. No one knew that name, not anymore.

“Does he know the location of Shaw’s deal?” M asked, all business.

Q brought two of his fingers to his temple, pressing lightly and narrowing his eyes. “Yes, he does, but he’s buried it very deeply.”

Erik pieced together his frayed nerves, searching for calm, his shock turning to mild surprise. A telepath, then.

M was focused purely on Q. “Does he work for Sebastian Shaw?”

Q’s nose wrinkled as he concentrated once again. “I don’t believe so, but unfortunately I can’t say with 100% certainty without digging deeper.”

Erik felt more tension uncoil from his belly. A weak telepath, then. A name was easy enough to swipe from a mind, but getting below the shields he’d learned over the years would take a much higher grade of telepathy, and this geek obviously wasn’t going to make the cut.

The suppressants wouldn’t hold Erik for much longer, and a second dose would no doubt be ineffective for an omega-level mutant such as himself. He’d be free by morning, leaving MI6 in the dust and off to pursue Shaw.

Q was watching him carefully, brow creased, but Erik didn’t give a fuck if this mouse was reading his current thoughts or not. He certainly couldn’t stop him.

“I’ll do it,” Q said finally, face solemn. “You’ve promised me three days. Keep to that, please.”

M nodded, face blank except for a minute pull at her lips, close to a frown. “I’m sorry,” she said.

*

Erik was blindfolded and cuffed once again for the ride, but already he could hear whispers of metal and it didn’t matter where they took him now, he’d soon be out. He was led into a building, up an elevator, through a door and forced into a seat with a not-too-gentle shove. With neither his powers nor his eyesight, he felt especially vulnerable, but held his chin high, challenging anyone who was in the room.

The blindfold was removed with care and as it dropped, he was confronted with Q’s blue eyes, gazing at him in concern, the absence of his glasses making his eyes appear far larger. “Do you feel all right?”

Erik ignored him and catalogued the surroundings instead, his eyes sweeping expertly. Every sign pointed to safe house from the barred windows hung with thick curtains to the elaborate locks and obvious security systems, including motion sensors and cameras. Even without the use of his powers, he could feel the hum of machinery, low and warm. The series of computers and monitors and gadgets that took up half of the living room were obviously not for 00 agent use. They’d taken him to the geek’s safehouse then? Laughter was welling up in him. MI6 was daft.

Q frowned in disapproval, face still quite close. “I assure you none of us are daft.”

“Q,” 009 started, moving forward, but he interrupted her with practiced ease.

“Raven, seriously? Codenames? We’re not even in the office.”

Her mouth formed a tight line as she motioned toward Erik. “Yes, but there’s a hostile sitting in your living room.”

009 was named Raven then. How… ordinary.

“He’s not harmed a single one of us, so I’d hardly term him as a hostile. A possible ally, perhaps.” Q was smiling at Erik now, open and hopeful. “My name is Charles Xavier,” he said, extending his hand.

Erik simply looked at him. Charles blinked, a frown beginning to pull at his lips before he turned to 009. “He’s really rather rude, you’re right.”

“I’m wearing handcuffs,” Erik gritted out. Charles’ red lips formed a perfect “o” as 009 moved behind him to unlock the cuffs. Erik rubbed at his wrists, though there was nothing more than a mild red mark.

Charles was insistent on the handshake, so Erik granted it, 009 watching with her arms crossed. Charles gripped harder than Erik was expecting, squeezing his hand warmly before finally releasing it.

“Ok, well, now that you two look like you’re settling in, I’m heading back to headquarters.”

Charles turned to her, nodding, and followed her to the door where she deftly flipped open the insane amount of locks.

“Be careful,” she said, her voice a murmur.

“This is going to work,” Charles answered back, voice equally small. He reached out to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not going to come to that, Raven, I won’t let it.”

She nodded once firmly and slipped out the door, leaving Erik alone in this techie hideout with a man whose neck he could snap with minimal effort if he felt so inclined.

“Well,” Charles said, making his way back toward Erik, “we’ll be staying here together for the next three days, so I hope we can get along. If you feel like sharing the location of the Shaw deal at anytime, please do.”

Erik stood, finally free to stretch, his back popping as did, Charles watching his movements with interest. “You’re my babysitter, then?”

“Something like that. I’m sure the suppressants are making you feel rather uncomfortable. Is there anything I can offer to help?”

Erik was nauseous but he wasn’t about to admit it. “I’d like a shower.”

“Of course,” Charles led him to the bathroom, motioning for Erik to go in. It was large enough, Erik supposed, a full tub and shower and a sink with an unnecessary amount of counter space. Charles pulled towels from a closet next door and handed them to Erik. “I’ll find some clothes for you and leave them by the door.”

The shower was heavenly. Erik spent much longer than he usually would have, enjoying the hot water beating down against his back, helping to push off the ache of the suppressants and clear his mind.

He could walk right out there, eliminate Charles, and be gone, but without his powers it would be messy, no doubt tripping all kinds of alarms and summoning backup. Even if he managed to avoid setting off the alarm and made a break for it, killing a member of MI6 and making himself a permanent target would be foolish. Best to wait and bide his time until his powers came back and he could slip out undetected and make a clean getaway.

He concentrated hard on the shower head and it twitched in response, sending a thrill of satisfaction through him. When he was finished, he rubbed steam from the mirror, checking his neck wound and found that it had been carefully stitched and treated. He opened the door to find grey sweats folded neatly on the floor and he pulled them on, not bothering with the matching top.

He strolled out into the living room to find the sun had gone down. Charles was sitting in front of one of his many computers, face illuminated by the bluish light of his screen, glasses back in place. He looked up at Erik, though his fingers didn’t cease typing.

“Everything okay?”

Erik smirked. “Do you always go commando?”

Charles' fingers stilled, the clacking of keys going silent as a flush came over his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to give you my underwear -- that seemed rather strange -- so I’m having some new pairs delivered as soon as possible.”

Erik shrugged, but he certainly didn’t miss the way Charles’ eyes were wandering across his bare torso, and really, it was all rather quaint. This little geek was probably a virgin and Erik was no doubt giving him enough wank-off material for months. Impulsively, Erik wondered if he could fuck Charles before he left, just for the fun of it, but dismissed the thought coolly. There wasn’t anything to gain from it.

Charles cleared his throat, pushing his chair back as he stood. “Did the sweatshirt not fit?”

“I sleep shirtless,” Erik said.

Charles made his way over to Erik, careful to keep a respectful distance, though his eyes kept darting to and fro over Erik’s chest. “You’ll be in the guest bedroom. Let me show you.”

The room was spartan and efficient, only a bed, a side table, and a desk occupying it, obviously nowhere Charles spent much of his time, judging by the general disarray of the rest of the apartment when compared to the cleanliness of this room.

“I’ll be next door if you need anything,” Charles said, one hand on the doorframe. “Goodnight, Erik.”

Erik didn’t answer, and Charles left, pulling the door closed behind him.

The whole situation was far too bizarre, knocking Erik completely off his game. He climbed into the bed, knowing that sleeping would be helpful for the suppressants, but his mind refused to calm down. What the hell was MI6 trying to pull? Shaw’s deal was going down in less than five days, and it was a desperate situation for them, but instead of intimidating or interrogating him, they’d provided him with a frumpy babysitter and set him up in a nice room. Some sort of psychological game, perhaps? But Charles had barely talked to him, much less tried to pry information out of him, so if that was their game, they were going about it rather badly.

Answers not forthcoming, he eventually slipped off into an uneasy sleep.

The familiar hum of metal surged back to him all at once, pulling him from sleep, his eyes opening to darkness. 3:46 AM according to the bedside clock, and what a lovely time to make his escape, he thought, slipping from the bed and pulling on the sweatshirt. He’d pick up clothes more his style once he’d gotten far enough away.

He padded quietly into the living room, feeling out the sensors and cameras and shutting them down instantly. He moved through the room easily, familiar with prowling in the dark, and once he made it to the door, he snapped his fingers and all of the locks clicked open at once. He reached for the knob and then it happened--

He couldn’t move. His body was still his, his heart pounding, his breath steady, and his eyes able to blink in surprise, but he was frozen in place, his limbs simply refusing to obey his brain.

“I’m sorry, Erik.” Charles’ voice came through the dark, gravelly from sleep. “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave.”

Erik’s body was suddenly his own again, and he turned to face Charles, his figure mostly obscured by the darkness of the room. He reached for metal, intending to take Charles down, but though he could feel it as clearly as ever, it didn’t respond to his call. “What did you just do to me?” he demanded.

Charles clicked on a lamp, throwing warm orange light across the room. “I stopped you for a moment and blocked your mutation. I can’t have you killing me and running off. You’re our last chance to stop Shaw from getting his hands on those weapons.”

“If you’d just let me go, I’d kill Shaw myself!” Erik roared, tired of playing stupid games with MI6. “You’re all just getting in my way!”

Charles flinched, but didn’t stand down, watching Erik steadily, and the words Charles had previously spoken finally penetrated into his head. Frozen him? Blocked his powers? While half asleep and obviously with little effort?

Telepaths could read minds, implant suggestions perhaps if they were extremely powerful, but _control a person_? _Shut down a mutation_?

Erik’s mouth went dry.

He had only ever heard rumors of such things, dismissed them as fancy, the natural exaggeration that came from the existence of a mutation that most people -- human and mutant alike -- feared.

He couldn’t stop staring at Charles, looking harmless standing barefoot in his striped blue pajamas. He couldn’t help the grudging respect that surged up in him, faced with such fearsome power. Suddenly he was standing before an equal.

Charles seemed to relax then, tension leaving his shoulders. “You’ll stay,” he said.

“I couldn’t leave if I tried,” he replied with a shrug.

“I’ve tagged your mind,” Charles said, crossing his arms. “Anytime you attempt to escape or use your powers, I’ll know.” Erik was impressed despite himself. “You should get some more sleep. The suppressants are probably still making you a bit weak.”

Erik knew it was a suggestion, but he also knew he had no other options.

*

Erik woke to the smell of something burning. He found Charles in the kitchen, completely ignoring the eggs in the frying pan as he typed furiously on a laptop on the counter nearby. He didn’t even look up when Erik entered, so Erik went to the stove and flipped it off, eyeing the blackened eggs, surprised they hadn’t caught fire. Unsure of what to do next, he leaned a hip on the counter and watched as Charles worked, still in his pajamas and biting his lip in concentration as his eyes darted across the screen. A brilliant smile spread over his face, and he hit one last key with a flourish and let out a breath.

He turned to Erik, still smiling. “Good morning.” His eyes moved to the ruined eggs. “Oh no, I forgot about those.”

“Something came up?” Erik asked.

Charles nodded. “I needed a security code for one of our agents. A bit of an emergency, so I literally dropped everything.” He sniffed the air, crinkling his nose. “That’s really quite pungent.” He moved to a cabinet, reaching up to pull out a box of cereal. “How about this instead?”

An offer of breakfast wasn’t what Erik was expecting, though by this point, he was so utterly mystified that he just went with it. He and Charles sat at the small table in the kitchen, legs brushing as they ate cereal like two normal people on a normal morning doing normal things. Charles asked how he slept, like this was some casual visit as opposed to imprisonment.

Charles was pouring two mugs of tea when Erik broke the silence. “You’re quite strong.”

Charles brought the mugs to the table, setting one with a cute flower design down in front of Erik. “It’s Raven’s,” he said, sitting down. “But yes, I’m strong. Best not to judge a book by its cover.”

Erik looked over Charles with his oversized pajamas and unruly hair and found he couldn’t disagree. “So that makes you what? Alpha-level?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s not a scale that can measure me.” Charles took a sip. “I’m at least omega-level, but my results were all off the charts.”

Erik nearly choked on his own drink. “There’s nothing above omega-level!”

Charles shrugged. “Then I’m omega-level.”

“What the hell were you doing during the interrogation then? Why bother pretending to concentrate so hard?”

“Oh,” Charles said, wiggling his fingers by his forehead, “you mean this? It helps me control myself. I can get a little overeager otherwise.”

Erik was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what that entailed. No omega-level telepath was anywhere on recorded record, but here one was, sitting across the table from Erik, sipping tea and looking like a kid in his father’s pajamas.

“These are nice pajamas,” Charles objected, but Erik wasn’t listening.

An omega-level telepath. The only one in the world.

Charles smiled, almost wolfish. “That’s me.”

“Could you stop doing that?” Erik asked.

“What?”

“Answering my thoughts. It’s a bit unnerving.”

“Nope,” Charles said, the smile not fading. Erik simply sighed and finished his breakfast.

“I’ve got some work to do,” Charles said as he finished washing up their bowls and mugs, setting them aside to dry. It was bizarrely domestic. He smiled ruefully. “Unless of course you feel like telling me the location of Shaw’s deal right now?”

Erik simply eyed him.

Charles sighed. “Didn’t think so. I’ll be ready to talk anytime you’re willing.” He started to walk out of the kitchen before coming to a stop with an “oh!” He picked up a shopping bag and held it out to Erik. “Clothes for you. Unless you prefer going commando.”

*

By afternoon, Erik was bored out of his mind. He was used to being on the move, chasing down unsavory individuals and stopping bullets with wave of his palm, not sitting on the couch, unable to even mess with the metal in the room. It was frustrating to be able to feel it when it wouldn’t obey his whims. He readjusted, sinking further down onto the couch so he could lean his head back more comfortably. Charles was busy at the computers, glasses back in place as his eyes followed something on the screen. He’d changed into slacks and another cardigan, confirming for Erik that his fashion inspiration seemed to be octogenarians. The bag of clothes had contained everything Erik needed, and he was now in a nice fitting pair of jeans and a fairly tight black t-shirt. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to know how they knew his exact size.

With no other options, he began to think of various ways he could escape. The bars on the windows were impossible without his powers, but he was sure he could figure out the locks on the door quickly on his own. He’d just have to knock Charles out first, and he could--

“Knock me out?” Charles asked. Erik hadn’t even noticed the keys had stopped clacking.

“You’re incredibly nosy.”

“You’re thinking incredibly loudly, but I can’t blame you. This must be boring.” Charles stood from his desk, taking off his glasses and leaving them behind before he came over to stand before Erik and held out his hand. “Here.”

Erik looked at the colorful rubber ball in Charles’ hand and raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me?”

“Well, I can’t give you a metal one, now can I?” he answered wryly. “You’d try to put it through my head.”

Erik thought for a moment that he might like to try putting the hot pink rubber one through Charles’ head anyway.

“Suit yourself,” Charles said and bounced the ball against the floor, grabbing at it and completely missing as it came back up, and he scrambled to get it as it bounced off toward his bedroom door. “That looked much more cool in my head,” he mumbled once it was safely back in his hand.

Erik cracked a smile despite himself. “Give it here.”

“Oh, now you’ve seen how fun it is and you want it. You’re a greedy man, Erik.”

Erik ignored the teasing, jumping to his feet and swiping the ball from Charles’ hand. “Watch and learn,” he said. He threw the ball and it bounced once on the floor, then the wall, before shooting straight back into his hand. Charles was staring at him wide-eyed. Erik did it again, the angle slightly different and caught the ball effortlessly again, this time just lifting his hand higher to grab it from the air.

“Show-off,” Charles said with a small frown. Erik threw the ball again, and this time it bounced back, heading straight for Charles’ face. Charles threw his hands up, but Erik was faster, closing his fist around it right in front of Charles’ nose. Charles blinked for a moment before slapping Erik’s hand away lightly. “You’re good at this.”

“You should see what I can do with metal ones,” Erik said, baring his teeth, but it was with more humor than menace. “My mom used to yell at me when I was younger. I broke a bunch of stuff all over the house.”

“Oh?” Charles said, turning fully toward Erik.

“Yes, she--” Erik stopped, suddenly realizing the words that were about to slip out of his mouth. His heart sank as it always did when he thought of his mother, and he sat down heavily on the couch, clenching the ball in his fist.

“You know,” Charles said, seemingly ignoring Erik’s sudden shift in behavior, “I was a horrible child. I drove my father crazy.” He sat down in the armchair next to the couch, pulling his legs up onto it and sitting cross-legged. “I was born in America, and we lived in this gigantic mansion, and I just ran around everywhere getting into everything. We had staff, of course, but my poor father wanted to take care of me himself.” He huffed a small laugh, eyes staring off at something only he could see. “He died when I was nine, though. My powers hadn’t even manifested by then, so he never knew, but even though he was a baseline human, he was always positive I would be a mutant.”

Erik watched Charles, feeling like he was intruding on something private. “He was right.”

Charles turned his wistful smile on Erik. “He most surely was.”

A sudden ringing caused them both to jump, though Erik hid his reaction much better than Charles.

“I’ll get it,” Charles joked, heading over to the group of computers and pressing a button. 009’s face popped up on the screen, looking mildly annoyed. Erik wondered if this was her default setting.

“Well?” she said without preamble.

“Not yet,” Charles replied easily.

“I’m heading out today. Anything I should take besides the new gun?”

“Sometimes I feel that you only love me for my trinkets.”

“Is there anything else lovable about you?”

Charles grasped at his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

Erik felt like he was in the twilight zone. What the fuck were these two?

“Take the suit,” Charles said. “It will shift with you, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“I don’t need it,” she replied dismissively.

“For god’s sake, you irresponsible nudist, it’s also to protect you! Flame resistant, bullet-proof, you know, _important_ things.”

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” She ended the call before Charles could respond.

He huffed, turning to Erik and motioning at the now blank monitor. “See what I have to deal with?”

“You and 009 are very close,” Erik observed.

“Yes, well,” Charles started, but a loud growl from his stomach interrupted him, and his face colored. “I’ll tell you while we make dinner.”

Erik was beginning to think MI6 might have simply drugged him and that he was in the middle of some bizarre dream in which he was stirring tomato sauce standing next to an omega-level telepath who was chattering on happily about how lovely and helpful 009’s mutation was for espionage. It seemed the only logical explanation.

Charles drained the noodles and scooped them onto two plates, coming over to Erik and holding out one plate at a time for Erik to ladle on the sauce. They settled down at the table again, and Charles continued on about Raven’s fantastic ability to imitate, down to finger prints.

“So you’ve been dating her for how long then?” Erik asked. Charles stopped twirling the spaghetti around his fork.

“No!” he said with a laugh closer to a grimace. “She’s my sister. Well, not by blood, but in every way that counts.”

“Oh,” Erik said. It was hard to picture Charles with someone as smooth and cool as 009 now that he thought about it.

“Excuse me, that’s rather rude.” Charles was frowning at him, fork forgotten on the plate. “I am extremely smooth and cool when I want to be.”

Erik smirked, unable to help himself. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

Charles jaw didn’t quite drop, but his mouth opened and closed uselessly once. “I’m quite sure that’s not relevant!”

God, this was way too much fun.

“Just because I have standards and don’t go around having sex with random old men for information--”

Erik spread his hands with a rueful smile. “One does what one needs to.”

Charles’ tone was lacking in playfulness when he replied, “Yes, one does.” Erik was about to pursue it when Charles began to speak again. “Anyway, I met Raven sixteen years ago. It was actually my fault that she was recruited to MI6.” Erik went back to eating, settling in to listen. “I might have accidentally knocked her unconscious, so she lost control of her powers and turned blue in the middle of downtown London.”

“You knocked her out?” Erik asked incredulously.

Charles tapped his head. “With this.” He fidgeted in his chair, readjusting his position.

Sixteen years ago. Downtown London. Unconscious.

Erik dropped his fork.

“That was you?”

Charles poked listlessly at his pasta. “Yes, well, you know how it goes when you manifest. You can’t quite control it, can you?”

“You knocked out all the people in a three-block radius!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Charles said a bit petulantly.

Erik had said those exact same words when he'd manifested. He’d been eating dinner with his parents and had accidentally bent every piece of metal in the kitchen. His father had exclaimed in delight, but his mother had looked scandalized, demanding he fix the forks immediately. Erik hadn’t known how to, and had only managed to further mangle them, ending up with the three of them falling into helpless giggles.

Erik shook the memory from his head. He hadn’t thought this much about his parents in years, and he would have suspected Charles’ influence, but it seemed utterly out of character, not to mention useless.

“So MI6 swooped in to clean up?”

“Yes, they found me standing alone sobbing in the middle of the blast radius, and a little blue girl nearby. Raven had been living on the streets apparently.” Charles’ tone was light. “They told me they would take care of everything and encouraged me to join in order to get proper training, but I was completely out of it. The whole world was yelling in my head all of sudden, and I just wanted to go home.”

“They didn’t let you,” Erik surmised.

“Oh no, MI6 were perfectly willing to return me home, as long as I checked in with them.” He shrugged. “My family requested that I…not be returned. For their own safety.”

“But your mother--”

“Was scared,” Charles said. “She had remarried by then, and my stepfather and stepbrother weren’t too keen to have me around. Can’t say I blame them.” He winked. “I’m quite dangerous.”

A spike of annoyance shot through Erik. “If you’re trying to make me feel bad for you with this sob story…”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m sobbing to you?”

No, Erik had to admit, he certainly didn’t, but nothing about this felt genuine. Erik didn’t doubt the story at all, but Charles’ flip attitude set him on edge, made him grind his teeth.

“You could do whatever you wanted. You have more power than all the rest of us combined. You could convince your family to take you back or MI6 to let you go, or hell -- just tell all of the leaders of the world you are now our new king. You could rule the fucking world, and instead you’re sitting here, hiding away behind a computer?”

“I’d hardly call being Quartermaster for MI6 ‘hiding behind a com--’”

Erik pushed back from the table, his chair dragging loudly across the floor as he stood, planting his hands on the table. “You’re ashamed of your own powers? Is that it?” He leaned forward, looming, blood pounding in his ears. “If you want the information, just fucking take it. Enough with these stupid games.”

Charles stared back at Erik, all big blue eyes and stupidly messy hair, and for a moment, Erik hated him.

He fled the kitchen, anger pulsing hotly through his veins as shut himself in his room, the sound of the door slamming echoing loudly in the quiet apartment. He threw himself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, letting his breathing calm down. Dealing with Charles was like mental whiplash, and he hadn’t felt this off balance in years.

He folded his hands behind his head. The incident in London sixteen years ago had been all over international news, impossible for anyone to miss. A massive telepathic event that had knocked out over 10,000 people and led to several accidental deaths -- people falling unconscious behind the wheel or just unlucky enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, falling on the stairs or into the street. The government’s official explanation had been that it was the death throes of a particularly strong telepath who had lost control of his powers in his final moments. Erik smiled at the ceiling. He knew now that it had been the birth of one.

And knowing Charles, being the cause of those deaths must have hurt him, made him more cautious of his own powers. Erik had killed dozens over the years, but only those who deserved it. To have killed innocents… That probably weighed on him.

Or did it? Erik didn’t know anything about Charles after all. He was either a virginal, fumbling nerd or a smooth-talking powerhouse. Erik had no idea which one was the real Charles. The entire man seemed fake.

Erik dismissed the useless thoughts. Thinking about Charles as a person wasn’t going to help him escape. At most, he could allow himself to think of Charles as an obstacle filled with weaknesses, and all he would have to do was suss them out in order to remove him.

He hadn’t missed the way Charles’ eyes followed him or how he’d colored ever so slightly each time Erik came close. He could work with that. He’d taken down countless men with sex before, and surely, even a telepath of Charles’ magnitude would lose control in the throes of passion. Erik smirked up at the ceiling. There were nearly four days remaining before Shaw’s deal, and if he worked fast, he could still easily make it in time to kill that son of a bitch.

*

Charles could hear some of the thoughts buzzing in Erik’s mind from the room next to his, but nothing of use to him was coming up, so he stopped listening, closing his eyes instead and attempting to drop into meditation for the night. Erik was too powerful to keep a hold on while fully asleep, so Charles had forgone sleep last night and tonight would be more of the same. He could rest at least, fall into a light doze that left him feeling tired but not completely exhausted.

Erik was… Erik was fascinating. Charles couldn’t help but be pulled in. The man was raw power and unbridled charisma and leaking pain and anger like blood from a wound that refused to clot. Charles wanted to help him, or at least put a bandage on that wound, but he knew he needed to gain Erik’s trust first, and that seemed a nearly impossible uphill battle at this point. He sighed, turning to check the time. Almost midnight. He had exactly 48 more hours to get Erik to give up the location of the deal or…

Charles pushed down the surge of unease. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

He’d tried his best to be open and honest with Erik to encourage his trust, and it seemed Erik had started to soften a bit, bantering with Charles, and hope had risen in his chest just to be squashed when Erik’s anger erupted yet again. Two more days to get the most damaged man he’d ever met to open up. The odds weren’t looking too good.

Charles felt Erik wake in the morning, so he blinked from his mediation, but remained in his room, tracking Erik as he went first to the bathroom then to the kitchen where he began to cook. His mind was fascinating. Unlike most minds which filled with random, useless thoughts that were quickly discarded, Erik’s was always focused on one thing and one thing only. The current task at hand was making scrambled eggs and Charles could have let out a laugh at the seriousness and concentration with which Erik approached the task, as if it were equally as grave as infiltrating a secret base.

Charles dragged himself to the bathroom, his body heavy with another sleepless night, but splashing his face with cold water helped to shake a bit of the exhaustion, and he made his way to the kitchen to find Erik at the stove. He was shirtless again, just the pair of gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips, and Charles cursed himself again for his instant reaction.

He’d seen Erik through surveillance footage countless times and always found him striking, but the real thing standing shirtless in his kitchen was a work of art. Perfectly shaped and muscled, his every movement walked the line between danger and sex, and Charles was pretty sure being attracted to man who killed and fucked with equal disdain was probably not very healthy. Erik turned to him then, and Charles felt pinned by his pale gray gaze.

“Good morning,” Charles offered.

“I made breakfast,” Erik said, motioning to the eggs with a spatula. “I figured you liked eggs since you were trying to make them yesterday.”

“I do. Thank you for cooking, Erik. Let’s make toast too, then?” He put two pieces of bread in the toaster, watching Erik from the corner of his eye as he flipped off the stove. Erik moved towards him, pressing himself along Charles’ side, his body warm and solid. The protest was almost out of Charles’ mouth before he realized Erik was just pulling down two plates from the cabinet above Charles’ head.

They sat as they had the previous day, eating in strangely companionable silence. Charles skimmed Erik’s thoughts, but it seemed the abrupt anger from last night had dissipated and Erik’s mind was singularly focused on the food.

“How’s your neck?” Charles asked.

Erik looked up from his plate. “It’s healing nicely. I’m assuming I have you to thank for this wound?”

Charles let a wry smile spread across his face. “You ruined some of our very expensive equipment, so I made something especially for you.”

Erik smiled back, not his usual predatory one, just genuinely amused. “Outdone by a plastic gun.”

Charles didn’t know how to deal with this strangely docile Erik, but his mind still betrayed nothing amiss.

“Work today?” Erik asked, finishing the last of his toast and sitting back in his chair.

“Nothing today. Just you and me.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “So what will we do then? Play with a yo-yo perhaps?

Charles just ignored him, rising and taking the plates to the sink. “We’ll talk.”

“I’m not sure there’s much for us to talk about.”

Charles began washing the plates. “I’m sure we can find something.”

Charles startled as Erik pulled a clean wet plate from his hand, drying it off with a towel. He hadn’t even sensed him approaching. Erik was standing very close, too close, Charles realized, and nothing this man did was without purpose, but Charles wasn’t sure what he was after now.

“Chess,” Charles declared. Erik blinked down at him. “We’ll play chess.”

Charles retreated to his room, changing out of his pajamas and finding the chessboard in the back of his closet. He brought it out to the living room, relieved to see Erik had changed as well, clad once again in jeans and a black t-shirt, the v-line of the neck revealing the dip of his collar bones.

They set up on the coffee table, pulling the arm chair around so that it faced the couch directly. Charles settled on the couch, letting Erik take the armchair.

Erik was a fearsome opponent. He took risks that seemed at first reckless and stupid, but turned out later to be carefully calculated. Charles couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thoroughly trounced. They played with little conversation, Erik’s laser focus on the chess game, and Charles smiled when he felt the satisfaction radiating from Erik when Charles conceded defeat. His competitive nature was both exasperating and charming.

“I thought you were a genius,” Erik jibed.

“That was just a warm-up,” Charles shot back, and they went into their second game. Erik was more relaxed, not talking, but Charles knew this game would be more leisurely now that Erik had proven himself.

“My father taught me how to play chess,” Charles said.

“Mine too,” Erik said absently, moving another piece.

“He must have been very good.”

Erik’s eyes flicked up from the board to meet Charles’. “Both of my parents were very good. They usually played after dinner, and I would watch, studying their moves.”

“Who won more often?”

Erik’s eyes went down to the board again, a soft smile on his face. “My mother. She was really quite fearsome.”

Charles didn’t mean to peek, but the memory was so bright and clear it was hard to look away.

A man and a woman leaned over a table, intent on a chessboard. The man captured a piece and smiled a bit wolfishly. “A kiss for each piece.” The woman laughed, a light and lovely sound, and leaned over the board to give him a kiss. The whole memory was tinged with warmth and love.

The memory snapped off abruptly, as if someone had pulled a plug on a monitor, only blankness left behind. Charles had to take a deep breath to steady himself as he pulled back from it, trying to stay in the now.

Erik was eyeing him, somewhat suspiciously. “Digging around again?”

Charles cursed himself. Getting Erik to trust him when he could barely control the urge to dive into his mind was going to be impossible. “I apologize, it’s hard not to see it when it’s a very strong memory.”

Charles waited for the anger, but it didn’t come, Erik returning to the game instead. They played in silence for awhile, but it was Erik who broke it finally.

“I don’t work for Shaw,” he said.

Charles almost fumbled the piece he was holding, but steadied himself. “I didn’t think you did, but it’s nice to hear it confirmed.”

“He’s vermin that needs to be exterminated. I need MI6 to let me do that.”

“You know we can’t just let you go in there, Erik. There’s too much that could go wrong. This is our chance to really catch him.”

Erik’s breathing quickened. “You could just let me kill him. That would solve more problems.”

“The nuclear weapons,” Charles reminded him, and Erik scoffed.

“I don’t care about those. I can leave them for MI6 if you’d like.”

Charles shook his head. “You understand we can’t take that chance. Those are stolen British weapons, and we need to ensure their safe retrieval.” It was a calculated risk to reveal this information to Erik, but Charles could feel the man opening slightly, and knew he had to make concessions as well.

Erik leaned an elbow on the armrest of his chair and rested his chin on his hand. “That explains some things. I could help you with their retrieval as well.”

“You’re a known terrorist, Erik.”

“I’m an asset.”

Charles took a deep breath. “You’re unpredictable.”

Erik smiled his chilling smile, one Charles assumed was the last thing many men ever saw. “I’m the only chance you’ve got.”

Charles couldn’t deny it. “If you give us the location of the deal, we're willing to let you go after Shaw’s capture. You’ll be free to do as you wish, left to your own devices.”

“Freedom means nothing to me.” Erik’s anger was beginning to simmer. He shifted on the chair, leaning forward towards Charles. Charles didn’t even realize how far forward he’d also moved until Erik was in his space, the two of them sharing the same air.

Charles needed to get the situation back under control and keep Erik talking before he was lost to anger once again. He moved back casually, careful to look as if he was simply adjusting position instead of fleeing. Erik watched him intently, but didn’t pursue, letting the moment pass. Charles grasped for another subject.

“So how about your mental shields? I don’t think they’re part of your mutation. ”

Erik took the change of topic in stride, his mind calming once again. “Learned from a friend.”

“They’re quite good,” Charles said.

Erik smirked. “Surely not good enough to stop an omega-level telepath.”

“No, not that good,” Charles allowed, the game sitting forgotten between them.

Erik sat back in his chair. “Emma would be so disappointed.”

“Emma Frost.”

“You know her.”

“She’s rather infamous.”

“I helped her rob a bank in exchange for information about Shaw,” Erik said in the same tone one would use to discuss the weather. “She taught me some things along the way.”

“Shielding is her specialty, I’ve heard.” Charles sensed a story, and hoped to coax it out. “But I’m a bit lost as to why a telepath who can turn into diamond needed help to rob a bank.”

Erik launched into the story, surprising Charles with the ease with which he gave up the information, but perhaps boredom really was the best way to interrogate the truth out of someone.

At one point, Charles' brow wrinkled in surprise. "I thought telepaths, especially ones of Emma's strength, would be able to control or influence thoughts the way I do."

Erik shrugged. "Well, she can implant suggestions and gentle nudges."

Apparently, that was enough to get the guards away from the safe long enough for Erik to waltz in and rip the door off, all without notice.

“You make a formidable team,” Charles admitted, impressed despite himself once again by the raw power of Erik’s mutation.

“Neither one of us really does teams,” Erik said dryly.

Charles snorted. “I can see that.”

“We’d make a better team,” Erik said, and the almost comfortable expression he was wearing closed off suddenly, as if he hadn’t meant the words to escape from his own mouth.

The afternoon wore on that way, chess and talking, with Erik occasionally shutting down and then forcibly opening himself back up. They paused at one point for a quick lunch, but returned again to the chess board, and Charles tried not to let himself get too excited when he won. There was something intoxicating about triumphing over such a powerful man.

Their current game was too close to call, and Erik made an aggressive move. “If you catch Shaw, how do you intend to keep him? Surely you know how strong his mutation is. Are you planning to babysit him just as you’ve done with me?”

Charles scanned the board. “Of course not. I’ve had years to prepare for Shaw. We’ve developed a cell that will hold him.” Charles made his move, but Erik wasn’t looking at the board now.

“How?”

Charles looked up to meet Erik’s genuinely curious gaze. More secrets he was openly spilling. “It’s a room that continuously sucks energy. Anything that he manages to absorb will be taken right out until he’s left with just the minimum he needs to function.”

Erik’s brows raised. “No wonder they don’t have you in the field. It would be a waste.”

Charles chuckled. “That’s not the only reason, I assure you.”

Erik simply looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “I didn’t exactly do well in combat training.” Charles’ face was heating at the memories. “I, uh, don’t really have a stomach for violence. I also lack strength and coordination apparently.” He took a calculated risk, sending a simple image into Erik’s mind. He and Raven sparring as teens, and her trouncing him thoroughly and repeatedly, in the end simply sitting on him while he tried to helplessly roll out from under her and repeatedly choked out, “Mercy! Mercy!”

Charles didn’t know what he expected Erik to do, but it certainly wasn’t what he got. Erik laughed. Not his sneering or mocking laugh. An outright, clear gorgeous ring of laughter that tilted Charles’ world sideways.

“You’re a wimp,” Erik managed, calming enough that his shoulders stopped shaking with mirth.

Charles couldn’t help it. He stuck out his lower lip in a full-on pout.

A terrorist and faithful servant of the British Secret Service, sitting across a chessboard and acting like kids.

The words poured out unbidden. “You should smile more often.”

Erik went very still.

“I--I mean, uh, like that. That nice smile. Not that other thing you do.”

“Do you like it when I smile?” Erik asked, amusement gone from his voice. Charles felt cornered by his intense gaze, though no part of him wanted to look away.

“Yes,” Charles said unthinkingly.

Erik leaned over the table, planting his hand in the middle of the chessboard, carelessly scattering the pieces, but Charles didn’t notice, didn’t hear them drop to the floor. He was frozen in place as Erik took hold of his chin with his other hand, the touch almost eerily gentle.

Charles held his breath as their lips met, just a soft pressure, but it shot through Charles like a bolt. Erik tilted his head ever so slightly, and their mouths slid together, still a whisper soft touch, but Charles shivered, the contact point between them all he could feel. Erik’s lips moved against his then, and Charles kissed back helplessly, hesitant but wanting, his heart about to pound out of his chest.

“Breathe, Charles,” Erik whispered, close enough that his lips brushed across Charles’ as he spoke, his words warming the skin there.

Awareness rushed back to Charles all at once, yanking him back into reality. He sat back from Erik, and Erik’s hand fell away, his eyes half-lidded as he watched Charles retreat. Charles’ brain was too scrambled to even think, his precious world-renowned intellect sapped from him by a kiss that was innocent enough for junior high schoolers.

“Dinner,” he blurted. “We should make dinner.”

Erik blinked, his half-lidded look returning to its usual piercing awareness. “Sure.”

Charles nearly bolted for the kitchen, cursing himself for his stupidity. The puzzle piece had finally slid into place. Erik’s behavior since this morning -- the shirtlessness, the closeness, and his sudden miraculous openness.

He was seducing Charles.

And apparently doing a damn fine job of it.

Erik could read him like a book, had shown him what wanted to see -- Erik’s humanity, Erik’s vulnerability -- and had obviously known that these were the things Charles found just as irresistibly appealing as his chiseled features and toned body.

Charles thought making dinner would be a clean escape or at least a reprieve, but it turned out to be pure torture. Though they were only making sandwiches, Erik took every opportunity he could to brush by Charles, a fleeting touch here and there, all no doubt calculated and all extremely effective. Charles knew exactly what Erik was doing and was still finding himself falling into it, leaning ever so slightly into Erik’s heat like a sunflower searching out sun. He would have been more disgusted with himself if he didn’t feel the raw lust radiating from Erik. The seduction may have been calculated, but Erik genuinely wanted to sleep with Charles, regardless of their current captive/captor situation. It was heady and hard to draw away from, and Charles had no idea he was so easy, but Erik was unfairly distractingly gorgeous.

They ate at the table in their normal spots, but the air between them was heated, Erik’s foot coming into contact with and gently brushing along Charles’ calf so many times that there was no question of its deliberateness.

“Your mutation,” Erik started, his voice somehow loud in the strange bubble they currently inhabited, “is there anything you can’t do?”

Charles latched onto the subject happily, desperate to talk about anything to get his mind off of the foot slowly stroking his ankle. “Depends on what you mean. I can do most things that have to do with the mind.”

“Well, I already know you can control me,” Erik said rather ruefully, taking a bite of his sandwich and chewing before he spoke again. “What about influence choices?”

Charles nodded.

“Alter memories?”

He nodded again more slowly, not sure he liked this conversation anymore.

“Can you make someone feel something they don’t want to feel?” Erik asked, his foot stilling against Charles’ ankle.

“Yes,” Charles admitted. “I can, but I wouldn’t.”

“I know.” Charles tried not to react, but the relief that swept over him was dizzying. Even if Erik was saying the words just because he knew they were what Charles wanted to hear, it still felt damn good.

Charles let a moment pass before he said, “What about you? Have you figured out how to fly yet?”

Erik startled, nothing overt, just a slight widening of his eyes. “Fly? I’ve never tried.”

“If you used the Earth’s magnetic fields, it should be no problem.” Charles said as condescendingly as he could, trying to win back ground in the bizarre mental game they were playing. “Stupid of you never to think of it before.”

Erik just laughed, obviously amused by Charles’ childish attempt. Charles couldn’t disagree with the laughter. He’d sounded like a brat even to himself, but this whole plan to get Erik to trust him and talk was going up in flames. He couldn’t seem to pick up his easy attitude from yesterday. Hell, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the way Erik’s eyes lit up when he laughed for real.

*

Erik was showering when the call came. Charles had been expecting it, so he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and answered.

Moira’s face popped up on the screen, looking cool and collected as always. Charles was glad one of them was still in control.

“Q,” she greeted.

“M,” he replied.

“009’s mission today was successful largely in part to that new suit of yours. I’ve made it an order that she wear it from now on.”

“Thank you,” Charles said, knowing that this was Moira’s way of telling him he’d done a good job, and that she was doing her best to make sure Raven stayed safe.

“I need a report on your progress.”

“It’s… Well, he’s talking now. I’ve learned more today than I thought I would, and I can confirm he does not work for Shaw. In fact, he’s out to kill him.”

Moira’s lips twitched. “Good to know, though Shaw’s list of enemies is so long he may have to get in line.”

“The location, however, is still heavily guarded behind shields taught to him by none other than Emma Frost. It’s no wonder I had trouble getting even basic information from him. Her shields are exceptional as always.”

Moira nodded. “That’s bad news, but it’s as you predicted then.” Her face grew very serious. “Listen to me, Charles.” He was thrown by the use of his name. “I need to know. Can you do this?”

Charles tried to swallow down the nausea that rose in his gut. “I...”

Moira waited when she usually would have snapped for him to hurry up and spit it out. She obviously knew what this was costing him.

“I’m sure I can do it,” he said, the words heavy. “I’m not sure I will.”

“I need you to be sure. You have 26 hours remaining.”

Charles wanted to bury his face in his hands and pretend none of this was happening. “I’ll do it.” His voice was even, though saying it knotted his stomach. “I promise to do it. Too much is riding on this. Shaw will use those weapons.” There was no need to say this out loud. They both knew it, but Charles wanted to hear the words, remind himself that there was no other choice.

Moira was looking at him with soft eyes, an expression he so rarely saw since she had become M. “26 hours.” She signed off abruptly.

Charles lowered his head to his desk, resting against the cool wood and trying to calm his breathing, which had somehow become erratic when he wasn’t aware of it.

“Do what?”

The sound of Erik’s voice had Charles sitting up so quickly he was momentarily dizzy. He hadn’t even heard the shower turn off, but Erik was standing across the room, once again in his low slung sweat pants, droplets of water from his wet hair sliding down his toned chest. Charles couldn’t even muster up a bit of attraction, the sight of Erik making him feel ill all over again instead.

Erik moved towards him, determination at the forefront of his mind, all thoughts of seduction swept aside, and Charles knew he’d heard most of the conversation. He wasn’t going to leave Charles alone until he got answers, and Charles didn’t know if he wanted to fight back anymore, didn’t know if he could keep pretending. 

“The location,” Erik said, looming over Charles who was still sitting, “why don’t you just take it from my mind?”

Charles looked up at Erik. “I can’t.”

Erik’s lips thinned. “But you can. I know you can. The question is why you _won’t_.”

Charles couldn’t answer, the thought hard enough to think, much less form into words. Erik’s mind was burning with anger again, and he grabbed Charles’ upper arms, pulling him up from the chair and forcing Charles to look him in the eye.

“Why?” Charles tried to look away, but Erik shook him, the grip on his arms painful enough to bruise. “Why don’t you just take it, Charles? It’s right here and you know it! What’s with this fucking Mr. Nice Guy act? I’ve had enough of it!”

“Erik, it’s--”

“No more excuses!” Erik spat, his breath fanning across Charles’ face, and Charles broke.

“I’ll kill you!” The words tore out of him, pulled from the deepest darkest places inside of him, the parts he couldn't face. “If I take that information by force, I’ll kill you!”

Erik’s grip on his arms slackened. “What?”

“I can’t just take things from people who aren’t willing, especially ones who have any kind of shields in place. I’m too strong. I’d rip your mind apart, Erik. There’d be none of you left in there.”

Erik’s shock snuffed out the flames of his anger. “But, all this you’re doing… freezing me and blocking my mutation… I’m fine.” His eyes darted to the side for a moment. “I’m fine, right?”

“Yes,” Charles said, desperate to reassure him. “That’s physical. That’s about your body. But thoughts? Memories? Those are what make you who you are. It’s one thing to simply peek at the ones you’re allowing out freely. It’s another thing altogether to tear into your shielded, unwilling mind and force them out. You’ll die.”

Erik stepped back, his hands dropping from Charles’ arms, and Charles felt it then. 

Erik was afraid of him.

“How do you know this?”

Charles squeezed his eyes shut and willed the tears not to come, but the memories were floating up unbidden now, ghosts of his past come to haunt him. “When I was younger, I used to do interrogations for MI6. I didn’t realize it at first, but every person I interrogated was… different after I’d taken information from them.”

Erik was watching him warily, taut with tension.

“It wasn’t until I was faced with someone like you, someone with an incredibly powerful mind and knowledge of shielding that I realized what was happening. I was sixteen and foolish and I reached right in, wrenched his shields open, and grabbed what I wanted to know.” Bile rose in the back of his throat. “He’s been in a coma ever since.”

Erik was looking at him like he’d never seen him before. Not the wonder from the first night when he’d realized Charles was extremely powerful, or the sheer shock when he’d revealed that he was omega-level. Erik was looking at him like he was a monster.

“I am a monster,” Charles said. “And I refused to do anymore interrogations after I realized what I’d done, but the stakes are too high here. I’ll do what I have to.”

Erik stood still, staring, and Charles approached slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. He wanted to reach out to Erik, but he held his hands still by his sides, resisting the impulse, stopping close enough to gaze up into Erik’s eyes, feel the warmth of his body.

“I don’t want to kill you, Erik.” His tone was more than just plaintive, closer to begging. “Please.”

“Just let me go,” Erik whispered.

“I can’t do that.” Charles voice broke. “Please, Erik.”

Erik backed away, his face contorted, and Charles was too afraid to touch his mind again. He watched as Erik turned slowly, as if it scared him to put his back to Charles, and crossed the living room in long strides, shutting himself in his room. Charles stood rooted to the spot, and felt hopelessness closing in, settling in his stomach like a rock. It was only then that he realized his face was wet.

*

Erik stared up at the nondescript ceiling of his room and tried to remember how to breathe.

He’d thought Charles was a mystery, some kind of fumbling geek or haughty upstart, but Charles was simple. Charles was just like Erik. Damaged.

God, and Charles was only trying to save Erik’s life. How in the hell had he managed to convince MI6 to give him three days? What was Erik’s life in the scheme of everything? Shaw would use those weapons without a doubt, and surely Charles wasn’t holding off on saving the world because he wanted to save Erik.

Was he?

Erik groaned, glaring up at the ceiling as if it could give him answers. He’d been playing around, trying to seduce Charles and hoping to sneak out, and now the thought of it made him sick. Not the thought of touching Charles, strangely that thought hadn’t lost appeal in the least, and Erik would have taken the time to wonder what that said about him, but his strange sexual proclivities would have to wait until he wasn’t in the middle of a fucked up crisis. He’d been stealing kisses over the chessboard, manipulating Charles like he was a plaything while Charles had been struggling to save Erik’s life, and really, didn’t that make Erik the monster?

And Erik knew nothing that had come out of Charles in that last conversation had been a lie, the words choked out as if they were being wrenched from him, tears streaming down his cheeks. It put everything else Charles had ever said to him in perspective. His light attitude over his loss of control when he manifested, the memories of his family, the relative isolation he seemed to keep himself in. Charles was terrified of himself, and no doubt anyone who met him was equally as afraid. Charles wasn’t being flip for fun; he was being flip because it all hurt too much. Erik could relate so deeply it sent a pang through his chest.

But why hadn’t Charles simply told him all this from the beginning and clearly laid out the ultimatum? Even as the question rose in his mind, Erik already knew the answer. If Charles had said it, Erik would have taken it as a threat, would have closed down completely and never uttered a word. Erik’s current wavering thoughts were plenty of proof that Charles had made the right call by trying to get Erik to trust him instead.

But there was still Shaw, and Shaw had to pay. Erik couldn’t afford to care about Charles’ feelings when he was so close, all his years of swindling and killing and fucking his way closer to Shaw couldn’t be so easily thrown away.

He would do what he needed to do to get out and kill Shaw. There was no other way. He just had no idea what that might be.

He slept, on and off, waking constantly, turning this way and that, his dreams hazy and stifling until enough light crept through the curtains that he could justify leaving his room.

He opened his door to find Charles sitting on the couch, legs pulled up close, his head resting on his knees, wearing those stupid pajamas. He looked small, curled up there in the early morning light, burdened with the weight of his own power. Erik tried not to let the sight move him.

Charles glanced up at him as he came out of his room, eyes wary and bloodshot. He looked like hell, and Erik wondered if he’d slept at all. “Good morning,” he offered.

“Good morning,” Charles replied, voice surprisingly strong.

Erik moved to the kitchen and began making tea, the movements methodical enough to be soothing.

He brought the mugs back to the living room where Charles still sat unmoving in his spot on the couch. Erik set the mug down on the coffee table within Charles’ reach.

“The flowery mug for you,” he said, but the delivery fell flat.

“Thank you,” Charles said, reaching for it and cupping it between his hands, clutching to the warmth. Erik took a seat on the other end of the couch, one cushion and an impossible distance between them.

“You’re not a monster,” Erik said into the stillness. Charles turned to face him, eyes seeming to glow bright blue in the morning light. “I can admit your powers are daunting.” Erik refused to say the word “scary.” “But the world is damn lucky you’re the one who was born with them. It could have been some asshole who abused that kind of strength. They could have ended up in the hands of someone despicable, like Shaw. But because it’s you, no one needs to worry.”

Charles was looking at him, lips slightly parted, but he didn’t answer.

“You’re not a monster, Charles.”

Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he reopened them, his gaze was soft. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Erik said, and they sat in silence again, the sun rising further and casting brightness across the living room.

It was Charles who finally broke their tentative truce. “Midnight tonight. That’s the deadline. If you haven’t willingly given me the location by then…”

“You’ll take it,” Erik finished for him.

“Yes,” Charles said.

“Right,” Erik said, and stood up to go the bathroom, suddenly needing space. He brushed his teeth and washed his face and leaned on the counter to stare at himself in the mirror. His reflection stared back at him steadily, and though his face was unchanged, everything was different. Only a few days ago he was free and hot on Shaw’s trail with no attachments and nothing to lose. Now he was…he didn’t even know.

He wondered if it would hurt when Charles tore into his mind.

Death meant nothing to him, but taking down Shaw meant everything. If he left it to MI6, they’d capture Shaw alive, keep him safe, and no doubt grant him plea bargains in exchange for information. Erik gritted his teeth.

If he didn’t kill Shaw, then what had the whole point of his life been up until this moment?

He knew Charles was the better man. He would have to appeal to that, even if it meant tearing himself open to let the memories bleed out.

He headed back to his room to change, and when he reappeared once again in his shirt and jeans combo, he found Charles back on the couch, dressed to face the day, and Erik’s lips tugged at the sight of him in a sweater vest.

Erik sat in the armchair, left across from the couch from the chess game, and without even waiting for Charles’ acknowledgement, he began to talk.

“I was thirteen when Shaw killed my parents.”

Charles’ head shot up, gaze ripped from the cushion he’d been studying so intently. Erik willed him not to say anything, and he didn’t, silently waiting to Erik to go on.

“My father worked for the government. I wasn’t sure what he did then, but I learned later he was working on weapons research, mostly chemical. My mother was a nurse, but she quit her job because she said it was more important to be home with me.” The familiar pain was back, aching across his chest, the wound of his loss still fresh after all these years, but he could only do this if he shut those feelings down, so he did. “Shaw found my father somehow, probably through one of his countless spies, and he wanted his research, but of course my father refused to hand it over. I don’t think my father had any idea who he was dealing with at first.

“But then, one day I came home from school, and my mother wasn’t there. I called my father to ask where she was, and he panicked. He rushed home immediately, and he was a mess. I heard him talking on the phone that night, sobbing, but I didn’t understand what was going on, just that it was bad.

“The next day, we got a package.” The words refused to leave his throat, so he motioned jerkily to his head instead, beckoning Charles to look at the image. He pushed it up to the front of his mind, a small box containing his mother’s wedding ring, complete with her finger. His father had thrown up at the sight, and Erik still hadn’t understood.

Charles gasped, and Erik looked down, concentrating on his hands which had balled into fists on his lap.

“My father left the house, telling me to stay put, and I let him go. He went to his office and got all the data, every last thing that Shaw could want, and went to bargain with him.” Erik paused again, his nails digging into his palms. “He never came home. Shaw escaped with the data, and my parent’s bodies were never found.” The anger burned so hotly that it made him numb, caught between grief and rage, he chose instead to feel nothing.

He looked up finally then, to find Charles wiping a tear from his cheek, and Erik knew his pain must have been leaking everywhere, even if he’d tried to keep it in check. “I’m so sorry, my friend.”

Erik swallowed down any emotional reaction that threatened to escape. “You understand, don’t you, Charles? This has to be mine.”

Charles took the deep, shuddering breath Erik had been suppressing and nodded slightly. “Yes, I understand. I know what this means to you, but I’m sorry.” He paused, his gaze gentle and damp but steady. “I still can’t let you go, Erik. He’s going to kill you.”

Erik slammed his fist on the coffee table, too exhausted to remain calm any longer. “No! I can kill him! I’m more than strong enough!”

Charles shook his head. “Every blow you deal him will make him stronger. You’ll die. We have a plan to capture him, and it will work. Let us do this for you.”

“This is mine!” Erik roared, and the anger -- or was it desperation? -- was so overpowering it nearly whited out his vision. He launched himself at Charles, sending the coffee table sliding across the floor, and Charles didn’t fight back, staying limp as Erik grabbed his collar and hauled him up. “Let me go!”

“I can’t,” Charles repeated, docile in Erik’s arms, eyes still puffy.

Erik made a sound in the back of his throat, feral and mindless, and Charles reached out to him, his hands cupping Erik’s face gently, as if soothing a wild animal. “Please don’t make me a murderer,” he said.

Erik grabbed Charles’ wrists, ready to wrench them away, but instead he was closing the space between them, pressing his lips to Charles’, the adrenaline making him rough and shaky. Charles’ lips parted on a gasp, and Erik took full advantage, deepening the kiss until it was brutal, teeth clashing as he forced his way in. He fisted a hand in Charles’ hair, holding him in place, and Charles let out a whimper, muffled by Erik’s tongue. Erik moved to push Charles down onto the couch, but Charles’ arms came up, shoving at Erik’s chest with enough force that he stumbled, releasing Charles’ hair and catching his balance as the back of his knees hit the coffee table he’d sent astray when he lunged.

Charles’s eyes were wide, chest heaving as he breathed, lips swollen and wet and hair a mess from where Erik’s hand had been. Erik ached with wanting him.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Erik.” His voice was full of warning, but Erik was more drawn to the way it wavered.

Erik wanted Charles to tell him what that was because he certainly didn’t know anymore.

“I know about your plan to seduce me.” Charles drew one arm across his chest, gripping his elbow as if he was trying to hold himself together. “I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s not--” Erik started, but stopped, because wasn’t it? The thought hadn’t crossed his mind again, but wasn’t that his plan? Erik wasn’t sure anymore. The confusion was driving him out of his mind, clawing at him from the inside. “Why would you do all this? Just for the chance of saving me?”

“I’d do it for anyone,” Charles said.

Erik didn’t want those words to hurt, but they did. He was no one to Charles, and he couldn’t figure out why that made it hard to breathe.

Charles stepped closer, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I would, of course I would for anyone, but it doesn’t mean you’re not special, Erik. It doesn’t mean you don’t make me… feel things.”

“You mean nothing to me,” Erik said coolly, though his expression didn’t remain nearly as steady as he would have liked.

“I know,” Charles said softly, and he reached out hesitantly, taking Erik’s hand. “But I can still help you.” Charles’ grip was warm and strong, and Erik looked down at the curl of his fingers.

He was running out of choices, and he knew it. The need to take down Shaw eclipsed everything else in his life, but to force Charles into killing…

“I’m so close,” he said, his voice softer and less authoritative than he had expected. “Why should I care what happens to you?”

Charles’ face twisted, but he didn’t look away. “I’m sorry.”

Erik was tired of hearing those fucking words come out of Charles’ mouth, like any of this was Charles’ fault, like Charles was the one who’d killed Erik’s parents and set him on an obsessive quest for revenge. He was tired of seeing Charles making wounded, compassionate faces at him while Erik was the one being wrung out by the memories he had both crushed down and clung to for all these years.

His shoulders slumped as the fight left him. It was nothing so simple as surrender. For the first time since he was thirteen years old and waiting for his dad to come home, he felt young and vulnerable and unsure, and this time Charles was there to witness it. But Charles was offering help, and Erik found that all he had to do was lean in and accept it. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, Charles’ eyes cautious but unshrinking, the warmth of his hand an anchor.

He told Charles the coordinates and the warehouse number, the three numbers that meant everything to him, hidden in the most heavily defended part of his mind.

Charles’ hand squeezed his tightly. “Thank you.” He drew away from Erik then, the warmth of his presence leaving as he ran to his computer, tapping a few keys.

And that easily, it was gone, everything Erik had been working toward for over half his life, gone in the press of a few keys. He sank down to the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and hiding his face in his hands. He’d betrayed the memories of his parents, his mind was screaming at him, but it was coming from a distance now, another part of his mind telling him firmly that he’d spared Charles pain.

Strangely, his own death didn’t factor in highly.

He felt the couch dip beside him, and Charles’ hand rested gently on his back. “They’re confirming the location now.” Erik didn’t answer, too busy falling through his own dizzying despair. Charles’ hand moved, a soothing up and down motion, the thin t-shirt the only barrier between their skin. “Thank you, Erik. I’m sorry.” Erik squeezed his eyes shut more tightly, unable to face anything. When Charles tugged, he went willingly, until he was being embraced, his face hidden in the crook of Charles’ neck.

Charles smelled like Earl Grey and lemon, and Erik breathed him in deeply, comforted despite himself. “I promise you. This mission will go perfectly. We won’t let him escape.”

Erik didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to crawl inside Charles and hide there to find some relief from the pain. “All right,” Charles said. “We won’t talk about it anymore.”

Erik readjusted himself so that he could wrap his arms around Charles in return, laying half on top of him on the couch, feeding on the closeness. In one moment, Charles had become the only thing he had in the world, and he wasn’t even entirely sure he had him.

The ringing echoed through the apartment, causing them both to startle. Charles carefully extricated himself from Erik’s long limbs and made his way back to the computers, answering the call. M’s face popped up on the screen.

“We’ve checked the coordinates. It’s an abandoned warehouse surrounded by fifty other abandoned warehouses. I need to know that this is the exact one, Q. I need you to tell me that this is the exact place, and that he hasn’t just given you some number that’s close. If it’s something like the warehouse next door, we’ll never know.”

“I believe him,” Charles said with conviction.

“I don’t need belief. I need certainty.”

“He told me himself.”

“Q,” she warned, “You know that’s not good enough for--” Charles’ face went unexpectedly vicious as he lashed out at the keyboard, and the screen went abruptly black. He stood for moment, obviously surprised at his own actions, his chest heaving. Finally, he turned to look at Erik, and smiled ruefully.

“Looks like they don’t trust us.”

Us. Not you, but _us._

“Seems not,” Erik said, surprised his own voice stayed even.

Charles made his way to the couch with hesitant steps. “There’s only one way I can know for sure.” His eyes didn’t quite meet Erik’s, settling somewhere closer to his ear. “I’m sor--”

“I don’t want to hear it again,” Erik cut him off, though there was no heat in his voice. He felt completely drained. Charles trusted him, and that was enough. Erik took him by the arm, pulling him down beside him on the couch. “Look.”

Erik dropped his shields, feeling naked and vulnerable, and Charles’ jaw dropped.

“Hurry up,” Erik said. Charles visibly reined in his shock and reached forward, laying his fingers on Erik’s temple.

Erik had allowed Emma into his mind once out of necessity. He hadn’t trusted her, of course. She was a ruthless free agent with her own agenda, but he’d needed the help to learn how to shield, and there was no one better. It had been an invasion of cold, icy fingers riffling through his thoughts briskly and without care.

Charles, however, was warmth and comfort, closer to a caress than anything as he navigated expertly around unpleasant memories and things Erik would rather have left alone, heading directly for the information he’d gotten out of Stryker before he killed him. Seemingly satisfied with what he found, he began to withdraw, and Erik couldn’t help that Charles was forefront in his mind, his myriad of feelings toward him a bright tangled jumble that was impossible to miss. Charles lingered for just one beat too long on Erik’s thoughts about him, and then was gone completely, leaving Erik alone in his own mind once again. He pulled his shields back up immediately, reassembling his armor as Charles’ open-mouthed awe faded into a more neutral expression.

“I didn’t lie,” Erik said.

“I never thought you did.” Charles’ voice was strained.

They stared at each other for a long moment, the fading sunlight painting the room orange. Charles slid from the couch, making his way back to the mass of electronics. M’s face popped up almost immediately.

“Confirmed as the location,” Charles said without preamble.

“Thank you.” She shifted in her seat. “And Magneto?”

A small smile made its way onto Charles’ face. “He’s here, all in one piece.”

M’s shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. “Preparation will continue then. We’ll need you both here tomorrow by 0800. We’ll send an escort.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Charles replied.

“Good work,” she said, and the screen went black.

*

Erik was sitting on the couch, the only light in the room coming from the lamp, casting long shadows across the floor. The sun had long since gone down, but Erik wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He was wearing his grey sweats and top again, and his hair was slightly damp, but he didn’t remember taking the shower. He must have at some point. 

He grabbed his own left wrist, digging his thumb hard into the skin to feel his own pulse. He was alive, then. It didn’t feel that way.

Charles appeared, obviously having come from the shower himself, back in his stupid pajamas and looking like a kicked puppy. Erik couldn’t even muster up a snarky comment to throw at him, though the image of a flustered indignant Charles did make his pulse pick up.

“I’m going to dry my hair,” Charles said completely unnecessarily. “I like it nice and fluffy.” Erik didn’t remove his gaze from the fascinating whorls in the wood flooring. “Right,” Charles said, disappearing again.

It was only a few minutes before he was back, sitting down heavily enough on the couch to bounce slightly before settling.

“What happens now?” Erik asked, unable to remember if he’d asked earlier, but he didn’t think so.

Charles turned to face him. “We execute the mission, and as soon as Shaw is in custody, you go free.”

“To do what?”

It was supposed to be rhetorical, but of course Charles answered anyway. “Anything you want.”

Erik wondered if there was something he wanted. He’d never thought about it before, past crushing Shaw’s larynx.

Erik pulled his eyes from the floor to look at Charles instead, and even though he’d let go of his wrist, he knew his blood was pounding faster now, like the sight of Charles was bringing him back to life. Charles’ hair did look fluffy, and Erik wondered if it would be soft to the touch.

“It’s pretty soft,” Charles said lightly.

“Stop answering my thoughts,” Erik said without heat.

“Nope,” Charles gave him a small smile, and Erik couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his own lips. “When you get upset like this, what do you usually do to cheer yourself up?”

 _Kill or fuck_ , Erik’s brain supplied immediately, and Charles flinched at the loud thought, but a flush was spreading across Charles’ cheeks, and Erik’s heart picked up more speed.

Charles scooted on the couch, until he was close enough to reach out and place a hand above Erik’s where it was resting on his thigh. “Erik, earlier, when I was in your mind... I…” Charles was obviously struggling to find the right words, his brow furrowing. “I saw... I mean, uh, about me… you… “

Erik raised an eyebrow. “You’re at a loss for words. I didn’t know it was possible. I feel like all you do is run your mouth.”

“Shut up, this is important,” Charles was biting his lip now, and it was entirely distracting. “Your thoughts, not that I was snooping, but, um, about me…” He looked down to where his hand still rested on Erik’s and then back up as his mouth worked to find words. He let out a sound of frustration instead, and then his lips were pressing insistently on Erik’s, warm and real when everything else in Erik’s world felt cold and false. He drew back after a short moment, and Erik wanted to chase the warmth of his mouth, lose himself in Charles completely and let everything else fade away.

“I need--” Erik started, and Charles just nodded and closed the distance between them once again. Erik deepened the kiss immediately, his tongue pushing into Charles’ willing mouth, and his hands immediately found their way into Charles’ hair.

“Soft,” he whispered against Charles lips, and he could feel the curve of Charles’ smile, and he couldn’t resist tracing it with his tongue before he went back to exploring Charles’ mouth in earnest. His body was screaming for more, on fire everywhere Charles’ hands touched, and Erik couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone so badly. Erik started to lower Charles to his back on the couch, working his way between Charles’ thighs until their bodies were pressed together in a solid line of heat. Charles was an amazing kisser -- _Not bad for a geek_ , his mind supplied -- and Charles nipped his lower lip in rebuke, though it just made Erik’s cock harder. Charles’ hands were everywhere, pushing up under Erik’s shirt to run up and down his back and dipping down below his waistband, pausing just above the curve of his ass. Erik sat up enough to pull his sweatshirt over his head, and Charles whined at the loss of contact, arms reaching out to pull Erik down before he froze, hands still outstretched.

“Not on the couch,” he said, his voice lower than Erik had ever heard it, and it sent a shiver through him. “My bedroom. It has,” Charles said, making a vague gesture with his hand, “things.”

Erik didn’t care where they did it, but “things” sounded good, so he let his hindbrain take over, and bent forward.

“Arms around my neck,” he said, stealing a quick kiss.

Charles blinked and obeyed, and Erik hefted him up, lifting him from the couch by his perfect ass. Charles wrapped his legs around Erik without hesitation, and Erik allowed himself a squeeze of that ass that startled a high-pitched moan out of Charles. Erik made it to Charles’ bedroom while Charles did his best to distract him, running hot, wet kisses down his throat as he shamelessly rubbed himself against Erik. Erik kicked open the door so hard he might have broken the hinges, but he didn’t give a fuck, far too eager to get Charles on that bed.

Erik threw Charles down on the bed with little finesse, his knees weak from the assault Charles had laid on his neck, and he watched as Charles pulled himself back to the center of the bed. Erik followed, crawling up and over Charles to look down at him. His hair was already a mess, but Erik was up to the challenge of making it messier, and Charles’ chest was heaving, his swollen lips parted as he took in quick breaths. He was quite possibly the sexiest thing Erik had ever seen, but he was still wearing those goddamned pajamas, and Erik did what he’d been wanting to do for days, and simply ripped the top open, watching the buttons pop off and fly with satisfaction.

“Hey!” Erik silenced Charles’ complaint with his lips, kissing him thoroughly while he worked the pajamas off of his arms, and finally he had pale skin bare and open to his touch. He trailed nips and kisses down Charles’ neck, pausing to nibble slightly longer at his collar bones and hear him gasp before he moved to take a nipple into his mouth, and Charles arched off the bed, his hands sinking into Erik’s hair and trying to hold him there. Erik sucked and licked until it pebbled in his mouth before he worked his way to the other one, entranced when Charles arched again and let out a long moan.

“Erik,” he said between sweet little sounds. “God, Erik.” The sound of his name in Charles’ moaning mouth was enough to have him moving on, his own cock throbbing even in the relative freedom of his sweat pants. He wanted to draw this out, make this the best sex of Charles’ life and completely blow his mind, but he was losing control, unable to slow himself down. He yanked Charles’ pants down, and was surprised to see Charles’ cock bob free, no underwear in sight. A thrill ran through him at the thought that Charles had purposefully forgone underwear for this exact moment, and Erik dragged his eyes from Charles’ entirely enticing cock to look to Charles’ smiling face.

“Commando,” Charles said with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle as he kicked his pants off, and even as helplessly turned on as he was, Erik couldn’t stop the laughter that took over. It was strange, he’d never laughed during sex, but Charles was watching him with bright eyes, reaching out to run his fingers down Erik’s grinning cheek. “You look like a completely different person when you laugh.”

Erik didn’t know what to say, so he just kissed Charles again, trying to convey what he had no words for with his lips and tongue instead, and Charles wrapped his arms around Erik’s neck, pulling him down until Erik was balancing his weight on his forearms, Erik’s clothed erection grazing Charles’ exposed one.

“Fuck,” he bit out, moving his hips without thought, chasing that friction. Charles’ hands were trailing down his back, pushing at Erik’s sweatpants until Erik took the hint, raising his hips enough to push them down his legs and kick them off. He lowered himself again, and finally they were skin to skin, and he hissed as their cocks brushed. He could already feel wetness between them, precome on both their stomachs, and Erik knew this wasn’t going to be the long, slow fuck he’d hoped for.

Charles removed his mouth from sucking another mark into Erik’s neck long enough to say, “Top drawer.” Erik reached over to wrench it open, pulling out the lube and condoms that were sitting right on top.

“Someone’s prepared,” Erik teased, but Charles ignored him, pulling Erik back down and giving him a filthy tongue-filled kiss that made Erik forget what teasing even was. Erik had never kissed anyone this much in his life, but god, kissing Charles was addictive, and breathing was getting in the way.

“Fuck me,” Charles said against Erik’s lips, and Erik let a full body shudder run through him. He had to work to get the lube open, his normally sleek actions reduced to fumbling. He prepped Charles as carefully as he could, trying to be patient and gentle and everything he normally was not, and watched as Charles writhed under him, making the most beautiful sounds Erik had ever heard. They all went straight to Erik’s leaking cock, which was throbbing painfully, the effort of holding back making sweat bead along his temples.

He was trying to convince his shaking hands to roll the condom on when Charles propped himself up suddenly and said, “Wait, stop. I want to do something.”

Erik tried to push down a surge of annoyance, unsurprised that Charles would be as difficult and demanding in bed as he was out of it, but he stopped and met Charles’ eyes.

“I want to suck your cock,” Charles said in his perfect little posh accent, pupils blown so wide there was only a small ring of blue and his face and chest flushed pink, and Erik had to squeeze the base of his cock hard to keep himself from coming right then.

“Next time,” Erik said, voice more breathless than he would have liked. Charles’ expression shifted and Erik was too distracted to identify what ran across his face, but then Charles was smiling.

“Okay, all right, then hurry up already.”

Erik rolled his eyes and finally managed to get the condom on. Charles grabbed his own knees and pulled his legs back to his chest, spreading himself for the taking, and Erik’s breath caught at the sight. He couldn’t resist, bending to lick a long stripe up Charles’ balls and along his shaft, dipping his tongue into the slit to taste salty precome and savoring the shiver he could see run through Charles’ body as his breath hitched. He licked his way up Charles’ stomach and chest, pausing here and there when he found a sensitive spot that made Charles squirm, until he finally made it up Charles’ neck and to his mouth. He reached a hand down to position himself carefully, rubbing the head of his cock slowly around Charles’ wet, stretched hole. Charles had lost all coherence by then, his kisses messy as he moaned into Erik’s mouth, but he froze as Erik finally pushed in, letting his head fall back and his mouth fall open.

Erik told himself to go slowly, willed his body to obey, but Charles was hot and tight and trembling beneath him, and it wasn’t long before Erik was buried to the hilt, his balls pressed tight against Charles’ ass. He held himself still, giving Charles time to adjust, but Charles let go of his knees and wrapped his legs around Erik instead, hooking his ankles behind Erik’s lower back and nudging him on, and Erik couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He fucked Charles hard and deep and without mercy, and every noise wrenched from Charles egged him on. Charles’ nails were scraping along his back and the pain of it was perfect, just the way Erik liked it, and he hoped Charles was leaving marks, reminders that this was real. Erik tried to keep a steady rhythm, but already he could feel his balls tightening, and he managed to reach between their sweaty bodies to take hold of Charles’ cock and work it in time with his thrusts. Charles gasped at the touch, his back arching off the bed, and Erik had to kiss him again then, though it was less a kiss and more an open-mouthed sloppy exchange of air. Charles cried out as he came, wetness shooting all over his belly and Erik’s hand, and Erik worked him through it, hips snapping as he pushed deep into tight, searing heat as Charles clenched around him. Erik lost himself then, letting go of Charles and bracing his hands on the bed, chasing his own completion with abandon, and groaning low as he came, seeing white behind his eyelids as he buried himself one last time in Charles.

He collapsed, letting his full weight fall onto Charles who was sweaty and panting below him. He wanted to stay there forever, pressed against Charles, but Charles grunted and Erik took that as a sign that he would like to breathe, so he withdrew as gently as possible, and the little whimper Charles made sent Erik’s spent nerves tingling.

He tied off the condom and threw it on the floor, and he knew Charles was out of it then because he didn’t protest at all, watching Erik with hooded eyes. Erik grabbed Charles’ ruined pajama top, and used it to clean them up as best he could. Charles let out a low hum while he did it, but otherwise didn’t move. Erik wasn’t sure what one did after sex that was closer to making love than fucking, but he assumed cuddling was normal, so he settled down beside Charles and pulled him close, letting him rest his head on Erik’s chest, his heart rate still elevated and thumping against Charles’ cheek.

“Sleepy,” Charles mumbled, pressing a kiss to Erik’s skin.

“Then sleep,” Erik said, and in just a matter of minutes Charles’ head became heavier and his breaths evened out. Erik ran his hand idly through Charles hair and down his back, studying his face shamelessly as he slept, looking young and vulnerable and gorgeous.

 _Mine_ , Erik thought, finding it heady. He hadn’t had anything for himself in so long, he’d forgotten what it was to want, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d topped, much less had pleasurable sex. He pressed a kiss into Charles’ hair, musing on how fun it would be to bottom for Charles, to see him take control and hold Erik down. He smirked. Next time.

He idly wondered what time it was, though Charles’ bedside clock was at an angle Erik currently couldn’t read. He wished it would turn this way so he wouldn’t have to dislodge Charles and then--

The clock moved.

It took Erik one stunned moment to know what that meant, his heart rate picking up again though this had nothing to with arousal. He tested it out on the lamp on the bedside table and sure enough, it went off with a pull of his powers. He turned it back on, his mind overcrowding with the implications.

Charles was sound asleep, and Erik’s powers were back. He might still be able to make it in time to kill Shaw, and his adrenaline was pumping, his body alive with electricity at the thought.

He looked down at Charles, who was now starting to drool slightly on his pectoral, and he watched him breathe for a long moment before he tore his eyes away.

*

Charles blinked his eyes open blearily, starting to stretch out his sore legs when awareness shot through him, and he fell from his bed in his haste to get to his feet. Scrambling up, he swept the area with his mind.

Erik was gone.

His legs gave way, and he sank heavily to the bed, white-faced and trembling.

Erik was gone.

He’d thought Erik would stay. He’d thought they trusted each other. He’d thought he had known that Erik felt the way he did, and--

He cut off the thoughts. Apparently, he’d thought wrong.

He forced himself to get back up and pulled on his pajama pants that were crumpled on the floor next to the used condom, the sight of it turning his stomach. He made his way out to the computers, putting one foot in front of the other, even walking suddenly seemingly impossibly difficult.

He took a deep breath and called M, but it was her secretary Angel who answered the call, her winged eyeliner flawless as always.

“Q,” she said.

“Magneto has escaped,” he said, ignoring the tightness in his chest, and was impressed by how even and professional he sounded.

“We know. He was picked up early this morning by our facial recognition software at the airport. We let him board a flight to Moscow.”

“What?” Charles couldn’t help the edge that creeped into his voice. “He’s going to storm in on Shaw’s deal and get himself killed!”

“We’ve calculated the flight arrival time and the distance to the deal,” Angel replied coolly. “There’s no way to make it in time to interfere, even if he steals a car and floors it all the way there. The roads are far too indirect.”

“Oh.” He tried not to let his chagrin show. Just because he’d been derelict in his duties didn’t mean the rest of MI6 wasn’t more than capable. He let out a low sigh of relief.

“Q, 009 needs you to be on top of your game. If you’re not, we’ll put someone else in her ear.”

“No.” He’d been so caught up in Erik, he’d forgotten that Raven was still going to be facing Shaw, and he would lead her every step of the way to make sure everything went according to plan. “I’ll be in by 0800 like M wanted.”

“Good,” Angel said, and her eyes softened. “Try to pull yourself together before you get here.”

She signed off abruptly, leaving Charles with his own reflection in the black monitor. His hair was a disaster and he realized belatedly he was shirtless and covered in… spots? Looking down at himself, he flushed. There was a prominent love bite on his shoulder and though he couldn’t see the ones on his own neck directly, he knew they’d be dotting his pale skin with red and purple. Well, no doubt what he’d been doing. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to having the conversation with M about why he’d let Erik escape, and now that Angel had seen, there’d be no worming his way out of it with an exhaustion excuse.

Charles gave himself the length of a quick shower to mourn, so numb he could barely feel the water on his skin, and as he watched it swirl down the drain, he wondered if he would be pulled with it. He wasn’t a child, and he’d known exactly what he was getting into the moment he leaned forward and kissed Erik himself, but that didn’t stop the dull throb of pain in his chest. He’d let Erik touch his heart, and Erik had ripped it out and run. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed away the image of Erik laughing as he leaned over Charles, his face a mix of joy and lust, and let the warm water flow down his face like tears.

He’d saved Erik’s life. That would have to be enough.

*

“009, is the target in position?” Charles asked, his eyes on the monitors before him, almost the entirety of the MI6 staff either in this room watching the operation unfold or out in the field participating in it themselves.

Raven’s long-fingered, masculine hand came into view, giving the signal to go ahead. She’d taken the appearance of Janos Quested, one of Shaw’s right hand men, and also the quietest, making it less likely for her to out herself by saying something out of character.

“Confirmed,” he said, adjusting his glasses unnecessarily. “004, when you’ve got a clear shot, take it. 009, be ready.”

“I’ve got it, Q. I see you, 009. Taking the shot in 5… 4… 3… 2…”

Charles held his breath. This had to work. So far, things were progressing exactly as planned. Raven had spotted Shaw arriving at the warehouse, and managed to take out and replace Quested in the space of time between when he climbed out of the driver’s seat and opened Shaw’s door for him. Neither Shaw nor Azazel had noticed a thing, and Quested’s body was safely stowed under the car.

Now Shaw was in the middle of the warehouse, negotiating with the dealer before him in flawless Russian while 004 lined up the shot. Raven would jump in to protect Shaw, pushing him out of the way of the bullet while at the same time injecting him with the suppressant Charles had planted in the sleeve of her suit, the needle thin enough that the man shouldn’t feel it if he was distracted by gun shots. Unfortunately, a fairly large dose would be necessary, so she’d have to stay in contact as long as possible. Once he was down, backup would sweep in and secure the scene. If Azazel tried to teleport them out, Raven’s cover as Quested would get her taken along, and hopefully, with Shaw’s powers out of commission, she’d be able to take Azazel out on her own. Charles hoped it didn’t come to that, and that the second shot 004 made would take out Azazel, but it was one scenario they’d prepared for.

The only eyes they had on the situation were the cameras attached to 009’s suit and in 004’s sniper rifle sight. The view was clear, even with 004 on the roof of a nearby warehouse, aiming through a small but carefully chosen window.

The shot rang loud and clear through the calm, and everyone in the room seemed to lean with it, as if they could will it to follow their command. Raven’s reaction was fast, but she froze and audible gasps went up around the room as they watched Shaw _catch_ the bullet and suck the energy from it, casual as anything. The dealer and his men, who had all dropped to the floor, were watching with open mouths and wide eyes.

“Azazel,” Shaw said, and the man nodded once and disappeared.

Charles’s stomach dropped. “Raven, you’ve got to touch him!”

Raven put her hand on Shaw’s shoulder. “Are you all right, sir?”

“Engaging with hostile!” came 004’s voice and the sounds of punches being thrown and landing thudded dully through the connection.

Shaw was looking at Raven with one eyebrow cocked, the cheap imitation of a friendly smile on his face. “And who might you be?”

“Raven, get out!”

“How long has her arm been on him?” M demanded. “How much of the dose has been delivered?” Charles couldn’t think over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, watching Shaw’s terrifying crooked smile on the screen.

“Not long enough. She needs another 21 seconds,” said a voice. Oh, Hank’s voice. Charles frantically tried to pull himself together.

“Not Janos, I presume,” Shaw said, and then with a touch of his hand sent Raven flying, the sound of her body hitting the floor hard echoing through the room. She landed on her side, the camera’s view capturing her limp arm on the ground and Shaw looking amused.

“Raven!” Charles cried out. Her arm began to change, shifting back to blue, a sign that she was either unconscious or dead, and Charles watched with his heart in his throat as Shaw approached, reaching for her.

“No! No!” And he flung out his mind, as far as it would stretch, the last sixteen years of holding back forgotten in one desperate, last moment. It was like suddenly sprinting after not walking for years, his head burning as muscles would, but he latched on to the familiar hum of Raven’s mind, and pulled himself there, ignoring the pain. Shaw was still approaching, he could see now through Raven’s eyes, and she didn’t have the energy to speak, the agony in her battered body stealing her voice, but mentally she was screaming at him. _Get him, Charles!_ Without thinking, Charles leapt from Raven’s mind and lunged straight into Shaw’s head.

He attacked like a feral beast, his claws sharp as he ripped into Shaw’s mind, carelessly swatting aside any resistance, and then he tugged as hard as he could, and someone was screaming, Shaw or himself, or maybe both, and he crumpled to the floor into welcome blackness.

*

Charles came to gradually, his head pounding like he’d been out on a bender, the ache behind his eyes so strong that he couldn’t stand the thought of opening them.

“He’s awake.” Hank’s voice was unnecessarily loud, and Charles flinched, and then flinched again. Flinching _hurt_.

“Charles?” That was Raven’s voice, and it was smaller, more gentle. That didn’t sound like Raven at all, which made Charles concerned enough to force his protesting eyes open. The light made him flinch again, and god, he was tired of flinching.

“Hurts,” he managed, but it was slurred. Raven’s face swam into view, sharpening once his eyes adjusted to the brightness. She was smiling at him in a way he hadn’t seen in years, relief and love shining in her yellow eyes.

Hank was there too, checking Charles’ vitals with a critical eye. “Everything looks all right.”

Raven let out a small sigh, some of the tension seeping from her body. “Are you with us, Charles?”

“Yes,” he mumbled. “But it hurts.” He tried to motion to his head but his hand wasn’t cooperating, flopping around on the bed uselessly.

“Your head hurts,” Raven clarified, and Charles nodded. _Oh god._ Why did he nod? Raven watched him with the closest thing she ever came to sympathy, and turned to Hank.

“Can we give him something?”

“He’s drugged to the gills already. I guess we could put him back under.”

“How’s that, Charles?” Raven asked. “Would you like to sleep?”

Charles’ head was still painful and fuzzy, but sleeping… sleeping was a bad idea. He remembered that.

“Can’t sleep,” he said. “Erik will leave.”

Raven’s brow furrowed, and she exchanged another look with Hank. “Let’s put him back to sleep.”

*

The next time Charles woke, his head still hurt, but there wasn’t anyone beating two metal trash can lids together behind his eyes anymore, and he sighed in relief.

He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. The MI6 infirmary, and a private room at that. He’d watched Raven get patched up in here countless times, but this was his first turn at being the one laid up.

He was alone, but no doubt someone would come running soon. He ran his hands over his face, surprised to run into quite a growth of stubble. How long had he been out?

But something else was niggling at him, a little tickle in the back of his mind. He sat up quickly, and let out a moan at the suddenness of his own movement.

The door opened and Raven ran in first, followed by Hank and M who moved at a more sedate pace.

“How are you feeling?” Raven’s tone was still gentle, and that was enough to freak Charles out.

“Am I dying?” he asked.

Raven swatted at him, though without her usual strength. Even her swats could leave bruises. “No, you idiot.”

Hank chimed in in agreement. “No, all of your vitals are just fine. How does your head feel?”

Charles tried to search for the right word. “Scraped raw?”

“Unsurprising,” Hank returned sympathetically. “That was beyond the scope of any telepathy I’ve ever seen.”

Pieces were falling back into place now from where they had been scattered. Russia. Weapons. Shaw.

“Did we get him? Did we get Shaw?”

Moira stepped forward, giving a firm nod. “We have him held securely in the cell you designed, though I’m not sure that’s a necessary precaution. We won’t be taking any chances.”

Charles wasn’t sure if his head was still stuffed with cotton or if Moira wasn’t making any sense, so he just gave her a pleading look.

“I didn’t mean to confuse you,” she said, moving closer to his bedside. “What do you remember?”

“Raven was down,” Charles said slowly, running back through it, the horror that had gripped him still sharp enough to give him pangs of nausea. “Shaw was coming at her, so I… I used my telepathy.” It came out somewhere between a question and a statement.

“Yes,” Moira said, “You took down Shaw yourself.”

Charles blanched. From here in London to the middle of nowhere in Russia?

Everyone in the room seemed to know what he was thinking, as if they were the telepaths.

“I knew you were strong, Charles,” Hank said, awe in his voice, “but this was a whole new level.”

“You saved my life,” Raven said, taking Charles’ hand and squeezing it. “You’re a badass.”

“Did I--” Charles tried to hold down the sickness rising in his throat. “Did I kill him?”

“No,” Moira said firmly, and Charles let out a breath. “He’s not fine either though. We’ll brief you on the details later.”

Charles tried to object, wanting to know more, but Moira raised a hand to silence him.

“For right now, all you need to know is that Shaw went down, backup arrived, Shaw was apprehended, the mission was a success.”

“Thank god,” Charles sagged in relief. “Thank god.”

“We even got the arms dealer and all his thugs as well,” Raven added. “The weapons are secure, and 004 took down Azazel with a bit of help.”

“We got everyone? That wasn’t even part of the mission.”

Raven’s lips quirked. “Yes, well, we had some extra backup.”

“What?”

Raven looked to Moira, and Moira shrugged. “I’ve got to get back to work,” she said briskly. “I’m glad to see you’re awake, Q.”

“Uh, yes, thanks,” Charles said.

M stepped out. Charles heard her say, “You can go in.”

And then the door was opening again. Charles blinked.

“Hank, what drugs did you give me?” he demanded, his eyes locked on the doorway.

“Only mild painkillers at this point,” Hank said, offended.

“Erik?” Charles asked, the name barely escaping his throat. As if his name spoken aloud granted him permission to enter, Erik finally moved into the room. “What are you-- _what?_ ”

“Backup,” Raven supplied with a grin.

Charles stared helplessly at Erik, and Erik looked back silently, gray eyes piercing and face unreadable. There suddenly wasn’t enough air in the room.

“Um, so, this is sufficiently awkward. Hank, let’s get lost.”

“What’s awkward?” Hank asked.

Raven just rolled her eyes and pulled him from the room with a wave. “You boys be good now!”

The shutting of the door was quiet in comparison to Charles’ heartbeat. His mind racing, he searched in vain for what he wanted to say -- piss off Erik, get out of here Erik, I hate you Erik, I love you Erik -- but all that came out of his mouth was a weak, “You came back.”

“Yes,” he said, and even the sound of his voice was enough to have Charles biting his lip to hold back the sob that wanted to break out. The moment Raven fell to the ground, he’d thought he’d lost everything -- Erik, Raven, the chance to get Shaw -- but he hadn’t, he hadn’t.

Erik was standing there, impossibly, looking downright dashing in a three-piece suit, so different from the casual attire he’d worn around the apartment, but something else had changed. This Erik seemed more whole. It took Charles’ aching telepathy a moment to figure it out, but when he did the revelation loosened the tightness in his chest. Erik’s shields were completely down, his entire mind on display for Charles, and this was more intimate than anything they’d shared together yet, Erik’s hopes and fears laid bare.

Erik moved to Charles’ bed with easy grace, sinking down to sit, close but far enough away that Charles’ wouldn’t feel crowded where he sat, blankets pooled in his lap.

“Erik, I’m sor--”

Erik’s hand covered his mouth before he could finish. “Are you actually trying to apologize to me right now?” Charles made an indignant sound that was muffled by Erik’s palm. “Stop saying sorry for once and listen to me. I’m sorry, Charles. For leaving. I’m sorry I did that to you. For what it’s worth, if I managed to kill Shaw and make it out alive, I fully intended to come back to you.” A pause. “If you’d still have me.”

Charles didn’t know what he’d expected to hear, but it certainly hadn’t been that, and even though every part of Erik’s mind was screaming that this was the truth, he couldn’t just… just… leave and then come back and say something like that. The anger making Charles’ face heat was unfamiliar but welcome, and Erik’s hand still covering his mouth only served to irritate him further, so he shook it off.

Charles took a deep breath, the memory of his devastation, terror, anger, and _hurt_ welling up in his chest and boiling into his throat, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was:

“You motherfucker!”

For what it was worth, his tone was still full of all the venom he could muster.

Erik’s eyes shot wide, and Charles stared back with equally wide ones, his eyes flicking down momentarily in a nearly cross-eyed attempt to look at his own mouth with disbelief. Erik’s lips quirked, just a small motion, but Charles knew what was coming, and he held his breath in anticipation. Erik laughed, deep from his belly, completely letting go, his face going from dangerously sexy to open and beautiful, and Charles’ heart did that strange flip flop it always did watching Erik with that expression. Charles had told Erik that he looked like a different person when he laughed, but only now did he know what he’d really meant when the words had slipped unbidden from his mouth. Magneto was some cocky asshole who mocked and jeered, but this person, this person sitting here and laughing with sparkling eyes and open glee, this was Erik.

Suddenly Charles realized his mouth was very dry. He grabbed the glass of water left by his bedside and downed it in a few big gulps.

Erik was watching him, a smile on his lips and his eyes still dancing with amusement.

“It’s rude to laugh at invalids,” Charles said, and Erik’s smile only stretched wider. Charles wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch it or kiss it.

The curiosity, however, was still getting the best of him. “You were backup? But how in the world did you get there? It should have been physically impossible.”

“I drove as fast as I could until I realized I’d never make it in time, even using my powers to speed up the car. The roads were too roundabout.” Erik paused, looking smug. “So I flew.”

“You what?”

“It was your suggestion.”

“I made that up! You can fly?”

“Now I can.”

Charles shook his head slowly, the smile sliding across his face without permission. “So then what? You flew in like Superman and saved the day?”

“I sealed the warehouse, mangled all the guns I could sense, helped your agent take down that shitty teleporter, and waited for MI6 to arrive. I went to Shaw of course, ready to kill him, but he was on the ground blinking up at me, looking of all things _scared_. Here.” Erik motioned to his head, and Charles slipped into the memory with ease.

It was a clear image of Shaw, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, grasping at empty air, managing to stagger to his feet and swing at Erik ineffectually before falling to the ground once again and beginning to babble at the concrete.

Charles pulled back from the memory to find Erik watching him carefully.

“Why didn’t you kill him?” Charles asked, unable to stop himself.

“Isn’t this a more fitting punishment? He’s no better than the humans he despises, and he’s weak. Weakness is the most unacceptable state of existence for someone like Shaw who thrives on the pain and torment of others.” Erik shrugged. “Killing him seemed like a mercy.”

“No better than the humans? What do you mean?” Charles asked, unsure if he wanted to know.

Erik’s eyebrows rose. “You ripped his powers right out. He can’t seem to even sense energy, much less use it anymore. From what they can tell at this point, he’s essentially a baseline human.”

Charles’ jaw dropped. “I can do that?”

“I wanted to ask you that.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t mean to.” Charles could hear his voice rising in pitch. “I don’t know.”

“It’s doesn’t matter,” Erik said surprisingly soothingly, but the image of Shaw was burned into Charles’ mind now, more evidence of the horrible things he was capable of.

“He doesn’t seem…” Charles said, his eyes falling to the white sheets bunched in his lap, “all there.”

“He comes in and out of it. He’s perfectly lucid for an hour, and then he’ll lose it again. They can still get plenty of information out of him.” Erik’s fingers brushed along Charles’ stubble before gently lifting his chin. “Hey, you did the right thing, Charles. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Charles let out a breath, resisting the urge to rub his cheek on Erik’s hand like a cat who wanted to be petted.

“But, in the future,” Erik said, voice uncharacteristically soft, letting his hand fall from Charles’ face, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t nearly kill yourself. You were out for over a week.”

“You’ve been here the whole time?”

Erik nodded.

“Doing what?”

“Turns out there aren’t a lot of available jobs for people whose resumes are made up entirely of killing and fucking.” Charles frowned, and one corner of Erik’s mouth curved at the sight of it. “Ah, you’re going to tell me I’m more than that.”

“Yes, I was, and I’d appreciate it if you’d let me say it before stealing my thunder.”

Erik’s small smile suddenly grew teeth. “Turns out MI6 could use someone with my skills.”

“You? You’re going to train to become an agent?

“That’s the plan,” Erik replied. “Though due to my past and my dubious allegiance, I was told I’d need a character witness, some sort of reference to let them know I’m trustworthy. Know where I could find one?”

“Trustworthy?” The word came out so bitterly it knocked the easy, teasing expression off Erik’s face. “You left me to wake up alone while you ran off to get yourself killed.” Erik looked like Charles had just knifed him in the gut and turned the blade.

“Fuck, Charles, I know. If I’d had any other choice, I wouldn’t have.” He took Charles’ hands from where they rested on his lap, and brought them to his own temples. “You can look as much as you want. There’s nothing in here I want to hide from you. I don’t give a fuck about the rest of the world, but I need you to believe me.”

“I don’t actually need to touch you to find all this out, you know.”

“Then you can take your hands away.”

Charles’ hands didn’t obey, simply sliding down until they were cupping Erik’s cheeks instead, his cheekbones sharp and his light stubble prickly. Erik’s mind was quivering with nervousness despite his unruffled appearance, dizzyingly desperate for Charles to at least understand him, even if forgiveness might be too much to ask.

It took Charles one moment to replay their three days together from Erik’s mind. To see Erik dismissing Charles as a pathetic geek, a weak telepath, a cocky idiot. To see Erik become more and more confused, finding Charles increasingly fascinating and impossible to ignore. To see Charles pouring out his soul and Erik doing it in return, finding a kindred spirit he’d never thought he would. To see Erik think of sex with Charles not as fucking but as making love.

They’d only spent three days together. Three days and a lifetime.

And these past ten days, frantic and sick with worry that Charles would never wake up, that Charles’ last memory of Erik would be an unforgivable betrayal…

Erik had no idea he was in love with Charles, and Charles was more than willing to be patient and wait until Erik realized it and said the words himself.

“What do you see?” Erik asked.

“You,” Charles said. “Just you. And it’s more than enough.”

Erik didn’t respond, but the downward pull of his lips eased, and he took Charles hands and pressed a kiss into each palm before he gently laid them back in Charles’ lap.

“You broke your glasses when you passed out. Do you need them to see?”

Charles spotted them on the bedside table, one lens cracked. “Oh, it’s no big deal. They’re not prescription. Just computer glasses to help with eye strain.”

Erik titled his head as he tried to read him, see if it was all right to return to banter. “You’re such a geek.”

“You’re going to have to depend on this geek when you become a 00 Agent,” Charles said, sounding more cocky now. “Being an agent is hardly simple, you know, what with all the subtlety and espionage.”

“Not fucking and killing,” Erik clarified.

Charles shoulders slumped. “I hope you won’t be doing too much of that.”

“I’m thinking I can let go of the killing, try to keep that to a minimum. As for the fucking, I was hoping I could keep that out of the job altogether. Turns out I’d rather make that a private and exclusive thing.”

Charles heart sped up. “Oh.”

Erik was sitting there, looking mostly calm, but Charles noticed the slight clench in his jaw, the way he held his body just a little too still. He closed the space between them, cupping the back of Erik’s neck to pull him close enough for their foreheads to touch. He closed his eyes, breathing Erik in, and Erik leaned more of his weight against Charles, his tension melting away. It was a gentle truce, the start of something new between them, and Charles couldn’t resist closing the last distance. The kiss wasn’t deep or desperate, just a slow, sweet meeting of lips, but it was more than enough to make the rest of the world fade away.

He didn't hear the door open or realize they had company until he heard Raven exclaim, “I knew it!”

***

_One Year Later_

“Q, with this polymer stuff, how long will I have to hold his hand to get a good imprint?”

Charles' voice was clear over the comm. “Not long, the length of a handshake should do it. Ah, but you’re a lady tonight, so let him kiss your hand -- that would be classy -- and then make sure to cup that ring.”

Their target was old and oily and in possession of a stolen document full of delicate information that needed to be retrieved at all costs. Raven eyed the opulent display of wealth around her with mild disdain, unimpressed with the expensive food and drink and party guests decked out in jewels and finery. She wanted to hurry and get that imprint of that ring’s insignia, use it to get into that safe, and get the hell out.

“You look stunning, dear,” Erik told her as he offered his arm. She took it gently, careful to avoid touching it with her polymer-coated palm.

“You know,” she said lightly, “I wasn’t even supposed to have to interact with this bastard, much less appear at this party. You’ve been supremely unhelpful.”

Erik smiled charmingly at a scantily clad woman who was eyeing him with open interest. “How was I supposed to know he’d have a plastic safe?”

“Well, these things happen. You both look lovely by the way,” Charles said. Raven could admit she’d gone all out, sporting her favorite busty blonde form and a red dress that fit like a glove. Erik’s designer suit was charcoal gray and perfectly tailored, his tie matching her dress and completing their rich, attractive couple look. She knew they stood out, even surrounded by this much glamor, and she basked in the attention, though she was annoyed to notice that she and Erik were receiving equal amounts of appreciative glances. Erik was one of the good guys now, but old habits die hard, and she had no intention of losing any sort of competition to him. She increased her bust size by one cup.

“009, no unnecessary changes at this point, please.”

“I’m disturbed you even noticed that, Q. Ogle your boyfriend instead. Everyone else seems to be.”

“Oh, I am. 0012, your ass looks great in those pants. Be sure to bring it home in one piece.”

Erik purred into the comm. Fucking purred. Raven looked momentarily to the heavens and wondered what she’d done to deserve this.

“I’m approaching the target,” she said. He was even more unattractive up close, his long thin nose and beady eyes making him look more rat than human, but he was surrounded by beautiful fawning admirers. Ah, the power of money.

“Excuse me, Mr. Droz, “ Raven cut in demurely, batting her eyelashes for good effect. “I was hoping to introduce myself to you. You have a gorgeous home.”

His peeling lips curled up into a smile he probably thought was alluring. “You are a vision, Ms...?”

“Darkholme, Raven Darkholme.”

“Raven, lovely to meet you,” he said, and before she could offer her hand to go after the ring, he leaned forward to give her an air kiss on each cheek. Shit.

But then his eyes caught on something over her shoulder and widened.

Erik was standing there, giving a look that could only be described as “bend me over the nearest table and take me now.” Raven nearly choked on her own spit. Droz stepped around her, not even excusing himself before he made his way to Erik, and Raven imaged if he was a dog, his tongue would be lolling from his mouth and his tail would be wagging.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“009, you did or did not get the imprint. Confirm.”

“Did not,” she bit out. “He’s too busy drooling on 0012.”

She watched wordlessly as Erik introduced himself and Droz took Erik’s hand to place a rather wet kiss on it, leaving his skin shiny. She smirked. Erik deftly took Droz’s hand between his own, and had the man truly been a dog, he might have peed a little on the floor in his excitement.

She’d observed Erik doing his seduction routine multiple times by now, but it never became less bizarre. The Erik she knew was snarky, standoffish, and the kind of asshole who left high-fives hanging, but the moment it became necessary, he was all easy touches and sweet lines, oozing sex appeal. From the beginning, she’d assumed he was gay, but he flirted so effortlessly with people of any gender that she began to wonder if he was bisexual. But outside of missions, he scowled when people smiled at him, turned down friendly invitations coldly, and generally thwarted any attempt by anyone to get into his personal space. Well, anyone except for Charles, who would no doubt be climbing Erik like a tree the moment they arrived back at headquarters. Charles appeared to be the exception to every one of Erik’s rules. Perhaps that made him Charles-sexual?

“0012, if you got in contact with the ring, let’s move on quickly,” came Charles' voice over the comm.

When he recovered from the hand-holding, Droz slipped a card into Erik’s breast pocket and leaned up to whisper something in Erik’s ear, lingering for a long moment. Erik nodded down at him, his gaze still hot.

“0012, I repeat, there’s no need to flirt with the target if we have the insignia.”

Erik said one last thing with a sultry smile before gracefully excusing himself and joining Raven, holding his hand a bit awkwardly to keep the polymer from shifting. The moment he was out of sight of Droz, his face went from full of dirty promise to complete indifference. “Q, I’ve got it.”

They made their way leisurely out of the ballroom.

“Was that really necessary?” Charles asked as they headed for a side door and slid out into the shadows of the night.

Erik’s toothy smile never ceased to creep Raven out. “Are you jealous?”

“Oh my god,” Raven said. She motioned for Erik to follow her to the well pruned shrubbery so they could stay out of sight.

“You know you’re the only one for me,” Erik said, like this was a perfectly normal conversation to be having while hiding outside of a mansion in the bushes and scanning his hand with a crazy gadget. Raven swore she could hear the sound of Charles smiling through the comm. “Not to mention, he wasn’t really my type.”

Raven snorted. “No shit. But what is your type? Do you even have one? If you answer ‘Charles,’ I’m going to punch you.”

Erik paused for a moment, watching as the machine produced a perfect 3D printout of the ring’s insignia, ready for use on the safe. “Geeks, I guess.”

“I love you too,” Charles said.

Raven rolled her eyes and swiped the duplicate from Erik. “Let’s go get this file. I feel a headache coming on.”

The rest of the mission went off without a hitch, and Raven and Erik returned to headquarters, heading straight for M’s office, the locked briefcase containing the file floating in front of them as they walked. Erik was always doing unnecessary ostentatious shit like that.

“Orders to hand the file directly to M and no one else,” Erik said. “There must be some _very_ delicate info in there.”

“What? Going to take a peek and sell it?” Raven joked.

Erik looked thoughtful.

“You're such an ass,” she said and punched him in the arm. He winced, and then immediately looked annoyed that he’d let a reaction show.

“Stop damaging my property.”

Raven turned around to find Charles approaching with a smile. He pulled Raven into a quick hug. “Welcome back.”

“Your property?” she asked with a grimace.

“Your property?” Erik asked with a smirk.

Charles turned his attention to Erik, and Raven could feel his happiness all around, warming the air like a morning sunbeam. He’d become much more loose with his telepathy in the last year, though only in front of those he trusted.

“That would be you,” Charles said, pulling Erik down for a quick kiss. Raven turned away. They were insufferable.

She grabbed the briefcase from the air and made her way to M’s outer office.

“Hey,” Angel greeted as Raven approached her desk. “I’ll let M know you’re back.” She started to type but paused. “0012 is also back, I presume?”

Raven tilted her head towards the hallway. Angel leaned across her desk so she could see and snorted.

“Everyone’s decided you’re the one to thank for that by the way.”

“What?”

“You’re the one who introduced them.”

“No,” Raven said. “I kicked Erik in the face and dragged him here for questioning.”

“But they would never have met if it weren’t for you.”

Technically, Angel was right. The only reason the two were thrown together was because Raven had managed to capture Erik, but how could she have ever predicted this? She watched the two of them in the hallway, blocking the way as Hank tried to skirt around them, too absorbed in making absurd googly-eyes at each other to notice him trying to pass. She rolled her eyes.

She definitely didn’t want any credit for that.

But the smile Charles had on his face now as he looked up at Erik, the blissful one he wore so often lately? He’d never made that expression until Erik came into his life, and it was irrefutable proof that for the first time in a long time -- possibly ever -- her brother was happy.

She’d gladly take the credit for that.


End file.
